And P is for Profiler
by REIDFANATIC
Summary: It's time for another simple recruitment assignment for Rossi and Reid, but we all know when it comes to Reid, nothing is ever simple. Add a string of deaths, a beautiful student and trouble soon follows.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. No copyright infringement is intended.

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A steady downpour made the streets of downtown Charlottesville glisten as the crime scene investigation van pulled up by an alley on Market Street. Vince Keller and Beth Drake got out, the hoods and their yellow rain suits protecting them from the rain, and opened the back of the vehicle to retrieve their gear. "Whaddya got Tully?" Vince said as they approached a tall, broad shouldered black man in a navy raincoat with police printed boldly on the back who stood in the alley.

"Looks like a mugging gone bad," he said, pointing to the body of a white male that lay facedown on the cracked pavement of the alleyway. The man, dressed in dark colored pants, it was impossible to tell exactly what color in this light, especially with the distortion of the blue and red lights of the police car, a dark shirt topped with a grey sports jacket, appeared to have been beaten.

"Any ID on him?" Vince asked but Detective Jacob Tully of the Charlottesville PD shook his head. "Let's get him covered so we can preserve as much of the evidence as we can." The man pulled out a plastic tarp that would protect the victim and any evidence he held from the rain.

"M.E. been here yet?" Beth asked as she removed the camera from her kit and began to take pictures while her partner and Tully covered the body. "I hate these kinds of scenes. There's so much garbage to sift through." She looked at the paper and bottles strewn throughout the alley, rats scurrying for cover and graffiti on the wall of the building. "Who knows if any of it is relevant to the case? Not to mention this rain washes away any good evidence."

"I hear ya Beth," Tully responded, "just wishing the M.E. would get here so I can get out of this damn rain."

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The light mist that had hung over the campus at the University of Virginia when Rossi and Reid had arrived had given way, first to a gray pall but now the early afternoon sun was trying to peek through the clouds. Rossi had just finished his spiel that after completing their course of study they could apply to the bureau to the fresh young faces that filled the lecture theatre. He had successfully convinced Reid to forgo any joke telling. The floor was now open for questions.

"Have you ever been shot?" A pretty blond in the first row asked.

"I haven't," Rossi replied, "but Dr. Reid was shot in the leg last year while saving a man from a serial killer." The females in the class suddenly seemed to take more interest in his partner, sitting up straighter in their seats and appearing to give Reid's body a good once over while smiling at him . Whatever worked, Rossi thought.

A few more questions followed and then the seminar wrapped up for the day. Dave was pleased with how it had gone this time. They hadn't been approached by a serial killer so far. As the students were filing out, one young woman headed against the stream to the front of the theatre, being jostled by those in a hurry to leave. She dropped her pen and as she bent to pick it up papers came falling out of the inside envelope of her blue vinyl clipboard. She quickly began to pick up the papers as people pushed past her. Reid stepped forward, a slight limp the only reminder of his injury, to offer his assistance. Once they had all the papers picked up he handed them back to her.

"Thank you Dr. Reid," she smiled at him. To Reid her smile, which went all the way to her lovely green eyes, seemed to light up the room. Her round face was slightly flushed and perfectly framed by a layered razor cut bob of dark brown hair.

"It's so nice to meet you," she said. "I've read all the books you've written Agent Rossi." Rossi smiled and nodded in reply. "And I've read all your articles Dr. Reid. They're very interesting reading."

"Are you hoping to join the bureau someday miss…?" Rossi asked the young woman he thought to be in her mid twenties.

"Beresford, Kayleigh Beresford," she replied. "I don't really know. I hadn't thought that far ahead." She blushed again. "I know that sounds stupid. Here I am in university taking classes. I should know what I want to do."

The older profiler looked at Reid who seemed incapable of opening his mouth, so Rossi replied, "Better to take your time and be sure than to jump into something and regret it later."

"Oh, I love the law, don't get me wrong. I'll be involved in it somehow but, as yet, I'm not sure just how."

Rossi again looked at Reid who appeared to have turned into stone. "Let me reiterate, the FBI offers great opportunities. The pay isn't the greatest but…"

"Nobody goes into your type of work for the pay," Kayleigh said. "No dollar amount would be enough to get into the sick minds of the people you seek or see the things that you see. You've made loads of money off your books and private consultations and Dr. Reid could make a fortune in the private sector. You could only do what you do out of a passion for justice."

"Did you have some kind of question Miss Beresford?" Rossi asked.

"Uh, yes, yes I did. How do you know for sure when it's a serial killer?" the young brunette asked.

"What do you mean?" Rossi questioned.

"I went on a ride along with Detective Tully of the CPD for my Criminal Investigation class and we saw a death that made me curious?"

"Curious how?" Reid had finally found his voice.

"I made some notes and I took some pictures. I tried to explain it to Detective Tully but he wouldn't even listen to me. I can't get rid of this feeling that I'm on to something."

Oh great, another weirdo with pictures of murder victims, déjà vu all over again as Yogi Berra would say, Rossi thought. He'd have to tell Erin that he and Reid were not doing this anymore.

"Look Miss Beresford, I applaud your enthusiasm and ingenuity and don't take this the wrong way but the CPD is far more equipped to decide whether they have a serial killer than you are," Rossi told her.

"H…how are these people killed, if you don't mind me asking?" Reid said.

"One was a hit and run, one was a stabbing and another was made to look like a mugging," Kayleigh replied.

"Serial killers don't usually change their methods," Rossi and Reid said together.

"I know, but what if he used the best method at hand?" the girl tried to convince the profilers.

"Why do you think they're serials? I mean what do they have in common? All serial killings have something in common," Reid said.

"Well, I don't know, other than one thing, the letters. I mean I wasn't privy to the autopsy reports or the investigation or anything on two of them so it's just my own investigating that I have to go on."

"Your own investigating," Rossi remarked, "how did you even know about these other deaths? Were they well publicized?"

"No, I…uh, I have a radio in my apartment on police band," Kayleigh admitted to the floor. "So, I went to the one last night, a mugging gone bad and there it was again, the letter." She took a picture from her pile of papers that showed an alleyway with a huge red 'T' spray painted on the wall of the building.

"This is your big clue?" Rossi said. "Some graffiti on a wall in an alley, you've got to be kidding me!"

"There were letters spray painted near the sites of the other deaths as well." She pulled out pictures she had taken. "Maybe the killer's trying to communicate with us in some way."

"There's no way to know that the graffiti was put there by the killer." Reid played devil's advocate.

"Last night there is. Look closely." She put her handbag on the front seat and dug inside pulling out a magnifying glass. "Look at the paint, it's running in the rain. The only way it would be running was if it had just been painted there."

"She's right Rossi," Reid said after examining it. "The paint is running."

Rossi gathered up the papers. "It's all very interesting but there's really no proof of anything here. We have so many police departments requesting our help to catch unsubs out there we can't waste our time on something that might not even be a serial killing." He handed them back to her. "Good luck with your studies Miss Beresford."

The young woman bowed her head. "It was a pleasure to meet you anyway," she said. Rossi and Reid smiled at her as she made her way to the door which banged loudly behind her reverberating in the silence of the room.

"That wasn't very nice," Reid said after Kayleigh had left.

"Come on Reid, we don't have the time or the energy to look into something that might not even be a serial killer."

The young profiler nodded as he followed his colleague up the steps that led to the exit, "But what is she's right?" He said quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to all who read, reviewed and added the story to their favorites and alerts.

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"I'm just saying," Reid said as Rossi maneuvered their SUV down the highway between Charlottesville and Quantico, "what if she has stumbled on to something? Remember what happened to that other girl Zoe?"

"Look, this has nothing to do with that case," Rossi made a left turn into Quantico.

"How do you know that?" Reid asked as they entered the elevator. "You didn't even give her time to expound on her theories."

The elevator doors opened on the sixth floor. "All I know," Rossi pushed the glass doors open and entered the BAU, "is that we can't have private citizens continually crawling out of the woodwork with cases for us. You do remember that we have to be invited in and I don't think Charlottesville is going to do that on the whim of a college student." Reid had reached his desk and was removing his messenger bag from his shoulder while Rossi carried on to the stairs. "And Reid," he said as he reached the first step, "bringing up Zoe was a low blow."

"What was that about?" Emily asked. She, Morgan and JJ were standing in the bullpen when the pair had arrived.

"Nothing," Reid said, throwing his bag on the floor and plopping unceremoniously into his chair. His leg ached. "They have to stop sending Rossi and me to these things."

The threesome raised their eyebrows and looked back and forth between one another with an expression that said, 'what's up with that.' They kept their observations to themselves however as Reid picked up a file from his desk and started to work. JJ and Morgan returned to their offices while Emily attended to her own files.

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A light knock sounded on Garcia's door. "Enter ye who seeks omnipotence."

"Hi Garcia," Reid poked his head in. "I wondered if you could help me?"

"Penelope's the name, helping's the game. Come on in sugar. How was Charlottesville?"

"It was okay." He paused for a few moments. "Speaking of Charlottesville, I wondered if you could look into any suspicious deaths there, particularly any that had a letter spray painted near the body."

"Sweetness," Garcia said with raised eyebrows, "do you know how strange that sounds?"

"Humor me Garcia. I hope you don't find anything but somehow I think you will."

"Oookay, if that's what you want." She swiveled her chair to face her computers.

"And Garcia," Reid said as the tech's fingers were already moving over her keyboard, "could we keep this between us?" The fingers stopped and she turned to face Reid. "Please," he pleaded.

"Whatever you want honey," she turned back to her keyboard, lost in her electronic world, effectively dismissing him.

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The team had gathered around the table and waited for JJ to begin the briefing. "Newport News thinks they may have a serial killer." She told them while she clicked the remote and the pictures of six women appeared on the screen. "Over the last six months six prostitutes have been found dead in hotel rooms from overdoses of heroin. The needles are still in their arms."

"Why do they think it's a serial?" Rossi inquired. "I mean a lot of addicts turn to prostitution to support their habit. This could just be six women who turned tricks for a dealer to get their product and then overdosed. It happens all the time."

"There were marks on their bodies to indicate they'd been bound." JJ clicked her remote and pictures of ankles and wrists with signs of restraints appeared on the screen.

"I repeat, is that really unusual in the world of prostitution?" Rossi asked.

"You would say that," Reid blurted out in a whisper just loud enough to be heard. "You don't want to take any case unless it meets your standards do you?"

"Reid that's not fair and you know it," Rossi snapped loudly from across the table.

"What I do know," Reid raised his voice as well, "is that people could be dying in Charlottesville and you don't want to do a thing about it."

Hotch's, JJ's, Emily's and Morgan's eyes went back and forth between the two members of the team wondering what was going on.

"That's not true Reid," Rossi replied sternly trying to control his temper.

Reid, on the other hand, was having no such luck with his. "Your indifference already got one girl killed, are you going to make it two?" The young profiler said as he stood and stormed from the room almost bumping into a shocked Garcia as she entered.

The room was eerily silent after the outburst between the two agents and Reid's dramatic departure while the rest of the team looked between one another hoping to find the answer to the sudden animosity their two teammates displayed. "Dave," Hotch finally said. "Would you care to enlighten us on what that was about?"

Rossi began explaining about the seminar the day before and Kayleigh Beresford approaching them afterward with her theory. "She didn't have enough information Hotch. JJ would never present a case that incomplete. What was I supposed to do with it? And we have to be invited in and, as far as I know, Charlottesville doesn't believe it has a serial killer."

"Then why is Reid so passionate about it?" Emily asked.

"This was a pretty girl; believe me," Rossi made the sign for perfect with his thumb and index finger, "a very pretty girl. She said she'd read my books, then she told Reid she'd read his articles and found them very interesting reading." He paused for a moment. "Hell, Reid couldn't even talk for five minutes he was so engrossed in this girl."

"My man," Morgan interjected.

Hotch scowled at Morgan. "So, what Dave," he asked, "you think Reid is thinking with his hormones and not his head?"

"Look, I know Reid doesn't have a lot of experience with women," Rossi said. "Hell, it wouldn't be the first time that a man fell for a pretty face. Attraction can make a man do stupid things. Been there, done that."

"Still, that doesn't excuse his interrupting JJ's presentation the way he did," Hotch said. "I'll have a talk with him."

Garcia stood where she had been when Reid had brushed past her while leaving the room. Her blonde pigtails, today encircled with green bows to match the figure hugging green dress she wore topped with a yellow shrug and matching green glasses, jiggled from side to side as she looked at the papers she carried, then at Hotch and Rossi and finally at the door where she'd last seen Reid.

"What is it Garcia?" Hotch asked curiously.

"Uh…sir…uh…I'm not really suppos…"

"Garcia," Hotch said impatiently.

Okay…I think Reid's hormones may be right?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: thanks again to all who read and reviewed.

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"What are you talking about Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"Sir, promise me that none of this will get Reid in trouble." She waited for Hotch to respond.

"None of what Garcia?" Hotch's eyes narrowed. He didn't think he was going to like what he was going to hear.

The computer tech remained silent. "Now Garcia," Hotch said sternly.

"Okay, okay," Garcia advanced into the room and sat down. "Reid asked me to look into any suspicious deaths in Charlottesville. He said to pay special attention if a letter was spray painted somewhere near the crime. He wanted to keep it just between us and I told him that I would," she finished.

"And did you find anything?" Rossi inquired.

"Uh...yes…yes sir I did," Garcia kept looking between Rossi and the door, afraid with each word that she was betraying either Rossi or Reid. "There have been six suspicious deaths or murders where police photos show a letter has been spray painted near the scene."

"Six," Reid said from the doorway. Everyone looked in his direction. He entered the room as if nothing had happened and sat next to the computer tech. "What did you find out Garcia?"

Garcia looked at Reid and then at the others. Hotch nodded for her to continue. The tech laid her work out in front of Reid. "The first case happened about sixteen months ago. It was a car accident and has never been ruled anything else. The decedent's name was Ian Chambers. He was 46 and worked at a service station in Charlottesville. You can see here," she pointed to one of the pictures, "there's a picture of his truck. There's what looks like a 'D' spray painted on the telephone pole he hit. The police assumed he was responsible for the accident because his blood alcohol tested .16. The report said when they notified his wife she said she'd always expected something like this and had begged him to quit driving drunk. I don't think they investigated any further." Reid looked closely at the photo depicting the contorted remains of an older model red truck that had rammed quite forcefully into a telephone pole, and passed it to Emily who was beside him.

"The second victim was six months later, Gail Nevin, 42, who worked at the public library. They found her dead body at the foot of her stairs. It looked like she had consumed a large amount of wine prior to her death. They found a bottle of wine in her kitchen, three quarters empty. Her blood alcohol was .09 and they concluded initially that she'd simply gotten unsteady and fallen."

"You said initially Garcia, did they find something else later?" Reid asked.

"Yes, the tox screen revealed something interesting. Apparently, according to relatives, the police found out that Hazel had been on antidepressants since her daughter had died of leukemia. Her antidepressant was Effexor which they found in her system but they also found Nardil which is…"

"An MAOI," Reid interjected, "monoamine oxidase inhibitor," he explained to the others. "The drug interferes with an enzyme that metabolizes monoamine neurotransmitters, the transmitter responsible for breaking down neurons like serotonin and dopamine which are usually associated with depressive episodes. Taking that in combination with Effexor would be lethal." He rambled without taking a breath.

"A gold star to the good doctor," Garcia said, "but they couldn't find any Nardil in the house. They looked everywhere. CSI tested the Effexor capsules in her bottle and found half of them were filled with Nardil, and" she said before Reid could interrupt, "there was a green 'E' spray painted on the sidewalk in front of her house."

"He's watching them," Prentiss said as she passed the pictures to Morgan. "He knows all about their lives.

"If it's even a he," Morgan threw in. "Poison is more a woman's method."

"He's doing both men and women; that's unusual isn't it, why?" JJ asked. "What does that make him?"

"There doesn't seem to be any sexual component to theses deaths and he's definitely not a sadist," Morgan said. "I mean, he wasn't around to watch Gail suffer. A sadist would need that. Did he take anything from the victims Garcia?"

"Nothing was mentioned," the tech replied.

"So no trophies," Emily concluded.

"Go on Garcia," Hotch said.

The tech nodded. "The third victim was six months ago, a man named Doug Potborski, 29; he worked at the country club. He died from anaphylactic shock."

"How did that happen?" JJ asked.

"Since you asked my beauty, Doug was very allergic to peanuts. Someone had gotten into his apartment and added some peanuts ground very finely to his tin of coffee. When he made his morning coffee, it must have killed him. One of his coworkers found him when he went to check on him since he hadn't shown up for work and didn't answer his phone."

"Didn't he have an epipen?" Reid asked.

CSI couldn't find it, the unsub likely took it making sure he couldn't save himself," Garcia replied. "Everyone at the country club said he had one and always kept it on him."

"Probably kept one in his locker," Prentiss began.

"But he didn't feel like he needed to carry it in his pocket in his own home because he controlled what came in," Hotch continued.

"And when he looked for it, it wasn't there," Prentiss finished.

"And the letter?" Reid asked.

"An 'A' in white spray paint on the fire escape outside his bedroom window."

"So that's D, E, A so far," Morgan said.

"Carry on Garcia," Hotch said.

"The next victim, Irene Minton, died three months ago. She was killed in a hit and run while walking her dog. She was 37. There was a 'T' spray painted on the light post. There are pictures of these letters in the crime scene photos but there's really no mention of them in the police reports. It's like the police just think they're graffiti and don't pay any attention to them."

"Someone paid attention," Reid said as he hazarded a glance at Rossi.

"It's happened too many times to be a coincidence," Prentiss said.

"Who's next baby girl?"

"The next was Carl Adolph. He owned a bar called Quench. He was stabbed one night a month ago while leaving the bar after closing. He was 62. There was a blue 'H' on the parking lot right near the door. Maybe the police thought it stood for handicapped or something."

"The last one was only a couple of nights ago in an alley off Market Street. The police think it was a mugging gone bad. A man was beaten to death and his wallet taken. They IDed him through dental records as Mike Vale, 51. There was a red 'T' on the side of one of the buildings."

"Yeah," Reid said, looking at Rossi who'd remained silent throughout the entire exchange, "we've seen that one."

"He's speeding up," Emily said. "He's gone from the first two deaths being six months apart to only one month."

"He's also changing the way he kills. He's gone from knowing a lot about the victim as in the case of victims two and three to just brutal attacks like stabbing and beating. He's not taking the time to get to know his victims anymore," Morgan remarked. "He's devolving."

"So does that mean we can expect another kill at any time?" JJ asked.

"Unfortunately yes," Hotch said.

"What do we do?" JJ wanted to know. "We've got the case in Newport News."

"How long between the kills there JJ?" Morgan asked.

"There have been six deaths in six months, relatively one month apart," the liaison replied.

"The last one was yesterday?" Hotch clarified.

"Yes."

"Then I think we've got another month before we can expect another death there. I think Charlottesville is more immediate." Hotch said, looking at JJ. "Contact Charlottesville PD and see if you can get us invited in. If you can we'll leave in an hour."

The team started to leave the room to collect their go bags and get ready for the trip. "It looks like we might be going back to Charlottesville again," Reid said to Rossi as the pair reached the door together.

"Looks like," Rossi nodded with a smirk. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a set of keys throwing them to Reid. "And this time you're in the driver's seat."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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The team entered the precinct in Charlottesville but it could have been in any of the hundreds of cities they'd been in. A stout, grey haired desk sergeant manned the front and behind him a bullpen much like their own in Quantico. After JJ informed him who they were the man made a quick call and the team was soon greeted by a tall, well built, black man they assumed to be in his forties. "Detective Jacob Tully," he reached his hand out to JJ who stood in front of the team, "You must be the FBI?"

"Yes," she said as she shook his hand. "I'm SSA Jareau, these" she pointed to the team, "are SSAs Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Dr. Reid."

The big man nodded at the agents as they were introduced. "I'm really not sure what you're doing here but Agent Jareau here seemed to be able to convince my captain that our city is the home of a serial killer. I doubt it myself but I'm interested to hear your evidence."

"Have you got a place where we can set up and we'll show you?" Hotch said.

"Certainly," Tully said stiffly, "there's a conference room right this way." He gestured with his hand toward the back of the room waiting for the team to go ahead of him. They could feel the eyes of the other officers in the precinct on them as they made their way through the bullpen.

The team entered the room with a round table much like the one in their own conference room. Eight swivel chairs in black leather sat around it and a white board that swiveled stood prominently at one side of the room. A small table beside the white board held a coffeemaker, cups, creamer and sugar. The pot was full of the dark brew and the smell wafted throughout the room. Ignoring the welcoming aroma, JJ and Reid began setting up pictures of the victims and the scenes that Garcia had hacked from the Charlottesville PD. The detective raised his eyebrows at their preparedness although he was still sure they were on a wild goose chase.

"If you don't mind my asking, what made you think we've got a serial killer here?" Tully asked.

Everyone turned and looked at Reid. "Agent Rossi and I were approached by a student when we did a seminar at the university," Reid replied.

"Don't tell me," Tully put his hands up, "Kayleigh Beresford?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Rossi asked.

"That woman's been a thorn in my side since I had to take her on a ride along as part of her course of study," Tully responded.

"We have a feeling she may be right detective," Hotch said.

"Look Agent Hotchner, Kayleigh Beresford is a bright young woman, no doubt about that. But she's nothing more than an overeager college student for God's sake. You came out here on her say so?"

Hotch gave Tully a steely glare. "Detective Tully give us more credit than that. Two members of this team whose opinions I deeply respect thought there might be something to this. One of them, our technical analyst, delved into each of these deaths and we feel they could be connected."

Morgan elbowed Prentiss. "Hey Hotch, maybe we should get Miss Beresford down here to explain her take on things."

"That's a good idea," Emily nodded. "I'd like to hear what she has to say."

"Get Garcia to get us her number," Hotch said to JJ, "and we'll ask her to come down. I doubt that she'll be able to shed any more light on the subject but you never know. Also ask Garcia to find something these six people had in common. They were chosen for some reason."

"On it," JJ said hitting speed dial and putting her phone to her ear.

"Detective," Rossi asked, "can you get us the files on these six deaths?" He indicated the people who Reid and JJ had put on the bulletin board.

The detective scowled, "Apparently I'm at your service," Tully said sarcastically, turning and leaving the room.

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"What have you got for us baby girl?" Morgan said into his cell holding it out for the others to hear.

"Not a lot. I can't find any clubs or other affiliations that these people belonged to. Their credit cards were used in some of the same places but half the world shops at Wal-Mart.

"Okay Garcia, keep digging," Hotch said as they heard a light tap on the door jamb of the room.

The team turned in the direction of the sound to see a beautiful brunette with green eyes and a stylishly cut short bob that framed her face. She was about twenty-five and 5'5" Morgan figured, dressed in blue jeans that perfectly hugged her curves, and they were very nice curves, he noted, coordinated with a pale yellow tank and topped with a black bolero jacket. A green scarf with tasseled ends was wrapped around her neck bringing out the green in her eyes. Her jeans were tucked into a pair of knee high black suede boots. A black leather handbag hung from her shoulder. "Hi, I'm Kayleigh Beresford. I was told somebody wanted to see me." Morgan held back a whistle. No wonder Reid had been speechless.

"Hi Kayleigh," JJ stepped forward, "I'm SSA Jareau, these are SSAs Hotchner, Morgan and Prentiss. You've already met SSA Rossi," Rossi inclined his head. "And Dr. Reid," Reid gave her a tiny wave from his place near the bulletin board.

"We've been looking into your theories on this serial killer angle," Hotch said.

"Really," the young woman looked surprised. "I didn't think anyone believed me." Kayleigh looked at the bulletin board. "Six!" she exclaimed. "There have been six." She advanced into the room; her eyes open wide, and touched each picture with tiny but well manicured hands, nails polished in a creamy beige. "I can't believe there are six."

"What made you think it was a serial in the first place?" Hotch asked.

"I've read all Agent Rossi's books and I love murder novels and puzzles. At first that was how I looked at this, as a puzzle. I thought the letters might mean something. I know this street." She finger tapped the picture where the hit and run had occurred. "I jog there every day. The "T" wasn't on that light pole before that day and this isn't a neighborhood with a lot of graffiti. I wouldn't have jogged alone in a neighborhood like that. So the letter seemed like a sign to me but Detective Tully wouldn't listen. He treats me like I'm some melodramatic teenager. So I kept listening on the police band and when I heard there was another murder I went there to see if there was a letter. The next two convinced me I was right. That's why I approached Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid at the seminar." She turned to Reid, "Sorry, do you prefer to be called doctor or agent?"

"You could uh…call me Spencer."

"Okay… Spencer," she smiled broadly at him.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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"What did you mean when you said the letters might mean something?" Hotch asked the young woman as they sat down around the table.

"Well, this 'T' that hadn't been there before was suddenly there." She pointed to the photo taken at the hit and run. It had nothing to do with the woman who was killed, not an initial or anything we could find, not that Detective Tully took it very seriously, so I thought maybe the killer had put it there as some means of communication. Why else would it be there? Like I said, there hadn't been any graffiti in this neighborhood before. The next time there was a murder and there was an 'H' in the parking lot, I was sure I was right. The last murder in the alley surprised me though."

"How so?" Rossi asked, becoming intrigued by the way this young woman's mind worked.

Kayleigh was silent for a moment, then took in a deep breath. "There aren't a lot of murders in Charlottesville. It's not like New York or something so when I heard there was another one I expected there to be a letter but, for some reason, I thought it would be an 'E'. You know, spelling the word 'the' but it was a 'T'. That's what surprised me. But now that I see that there were others before this I'm sure. I mean they spell 'DEATH…T'. Death…what?" A sickly look came over her face. "He's not done yet, is he?"

Hotch sighed as he glowered sternly, "No, I'm afraid not."

"What did you see at the murder sites?" Prentiss asked.

"Okay," Kayleigh began, "at the hit and run I saw everything. I was riding with Detective Tully who responded to the call. I saw Miss Minton's body, the CSIs at work, the medical examiner, the whole thing. I remember they had a hard time getting to the body because Miss Minton's dog wouldn't let anyone near her. They had to get a vet to shoot a tranquilizer dart before they could reach her."

"Hotch," Morgan said, slamming down one the files that Detective Tully had irritably thrown on the table, "none of that stuff about the dog is in this report."

"Was the dog hurt?" JJ asked.

"Yes, I think so," Kayleigh replied. "You could see blood on his hind quarters but, even so, he growled and bore his teeth if anyone even tried to get near Miss Minton. He was a big dog, an akita I think."

"Did you notice anyone in the vicinity watching?" Reid asked.

"No, well not at first, but then with the police, the CSI van and the ambulance, people began gathering. Is that important?" she asked.

"Serial killers sometimes come back to the scene to watch the reaction to their 'handiwork'," Hotch explained.

"Were there any witnesses to the hit and run?" Morgan asked.

"No, no one that came forward anyway. Detective Tully and I canvassed the neighborhood."

"Who called it in?" Reid inquired

Morgan looked at the file. "911 from a disposable cell."

"Could have been our unsub or just a motorist who came upon the victim," Rossi said.

"Were there cameras at the intersection?" Prentiss asked.

"No," Kayleigh responded. "We checked that. That'd be too easy wouldn't it. Oh sorry, maybe I'm…am I overstepping or something?"

"No," Hotch assured the young woman, "anything you can add would be helpful. You said you took pictures at the other crime scenes with your cell."

"Yes, I didn't bring them with me though," the perky brunette replied. "I'd go get them but I don't have my car, it's in the shop. I came in a taxi."

"That's okay, Morgan why don't you go with Miss Beresford to get her pictures," Hotch suggested.

"Hotch, I've got another angle I want to work on." He smirked, "Why don't you send uh…Spencer?"

Reid got up and headed for the door as did Kayleigh. They reached the door at the same time and would have bumped each other if Reid hadn't stopped and gestured with his hand that Kayleigh precede him.

"Go get her lover," Morgan whispered as the pair left the room. "I must admit, my man knows a fine woman when he sees one."

"I just hope he doesn't get pulled over for DWI," Prentiss said as the rest of the team looked puzzled. "Driving while infatuated," she said.

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"Hotch, have you seen these autopsy reports?" Rossi asked from his place around the table. Morgan and Prentiss had left to talk to people at Quench to find if anyone had seen anything on the night of Carl Adolph's stabbing or if he had any enemies.

"No," Hotch said as he studied the photos on the board as if willing a connection between the victims to jump out at him.

"It says here," Rossi read, "that Adolph and Vale were tazered before the stabbing and beating that killed them."

"What does that tell us specifically?" JJ asked.

"That the killer thought he couldn't control the victim physically without incapacitating him first," Hotch replied. "He could be a small man or someone with a disability…."

"Or a woman," Rossi added. "Any of the first four attacks could have been carried out by a woman. Two used vehicles and the other two involved tampering with food and drugs in the vic's home."

"We may have to rethink the profile," Hotch considered.

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Reid and Kayleigh had just passed the intersection where the hit and run had occurred. She had pointed it out to him and he had inspected the area while they waited for the light to change.

"I want to thank you," Kayleigh said. "I didn't think anyone believed me. I know Agent Rossi didn't so it must have been you who convinced the team that I'm not a nutcase," she rolled her eyes.

"Look, Kayleigh," he paused for a moment. "It's okay if I call you Kayleigh," Reid asked.

"Sure," she nodded and smiled that brilliant smile, "actually most people call me Leigh."

"Okay…uh Leigh, it's not that Rossi thinks you're a nutcase," Reid replied as he maneuvered the SUV onto the campus. "He does a lot of these seminars and book signings. He gets a lot of people coming up to him…"

"I get your point," Kayleigh admitted. "Well thanks for looking into it anyway." Reid pulled up outside the building Kayleigh indicated, one of the many that made up the campus. "I'll only be a couple of minutes." She ran into the building where her locker was located leaving Reid to watch the students on campus. When he was their age he'd been working on his third doctorate. He sometimes wished he wasn't as smart as he was so that he could have had the college experience these kids had. But what good did wishing for that do? That was in the past. He was who he was and college was over now, except for the odd lecture he attended, he did most of the courses for his latest degree on line. And, he reminded himself, when something he knew because of his genius helped put a serial killer away, it somehow seemed worth it. He looked at the students as they traversed the campus, the sunlight shining on them while they walked on the sidewalks or trod on the grass that resembled a green carpet. Probably none of their lives were as perfect as they looked from where he sat.

"Got them," Kayleigh said, interrupting his musings, as she opened the door and hopped back into the passenger seat. Her dark hair gleamed as the sun shone through the windshield. She smiled at him and her green eyes seemed to sparkle like emeralds as she clicked her seatbelt on. "Spencer," she said when he made no move to start the SUV.

"Uh, yeah, let's go," Reid replied putting his sunglasses back on and turning the ignition.

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"We didn't get anything from the people at Quench," Emily said as she and Morgan entered the conference room. "According to the staff he didn't have any trouble with the patrons and he never got into it with anybody because all disputes were handled by Chuck, the bouncer."

"We did see the 'H' in the parking lot," Morgan added. "It is right next to the door Hotch so I could understand why Tully may have thought it stood for handicapped and Adolph just didn't want to take the time and energy or chuck out the bucks to paint the proper symbol there."

"The unsub appears to be marking his or her territory but also making the letters seem like ordinary graffiti but with some kind of meaning." Rossi said as he looked once again at the pictures in front of him.

"Her?" Emily asked.

"The autopsy reports," Rossi waved the documents in the air. "The two men that were attacked were tazered so now we're not sure if we could be dealing with someone small, disabled in some way, or a woman," Hotch said.

The phone on the table rang just as Reid and Kayleigh were entering the room. "What have you got for us Garcia?" Hotch said after pushing the button.

"Hello my doves, when will they learn that they can run but they can't hide from the omnipotent one," came through the speaker causing Kayleaigh to give Reid a strange look and point a finger at the phone. "I may have found a connection between our victims."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and PMs. Love to hear from you all.

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"What have you found Garcia," Hotch said into the phone on the desk while the others took their seats around the table.

"All the victims were mentioned at one time or another on the police blotter in the Charlottesville Cavalier Daily," the tech reported.

"Was it for any particular offense baby girl?" Morgan asked causing Kayleigh to raise her eyebrows and again looked at Reid.

"You betcha my chocolate God of thunder, they were all arrested for DUI." Kayleigh glanced at those around the table. No one seemed at all surprised by this unusual banter.

"Well that would make sense since the first victim was driving with an alcohol level of .16 at the time of the accident," Emily said. "If he had a history of it they might have closed the case without too much of an investigation."

"They didn't do an accident reconstruction," Hotch said, "probably assumed the driver had veered into the oncoming lane and then swerved and hit the pole when he attempted to avoid a collision. Unfortunately his truck was an older model and wasn't equipped with airbags."

"Wouldn't they have thought the other driver would have called it in if that were the case and investigated?" Reid asked.

"You'd think so, when someone had obviously left the scene of an accident," Rossi said. "We'll have to do an accident reconstruction and go from there. It won't be as easy doing it from photographs as it would from the actual scene but too much time has passed for the scene to be of any help to us. Garcia, I'm sure you have a program that can help us out."

"Have I ever let you down? I'm all yours when needed. Farewell my doves," the connection ended.

"I can get in touch with body shops and see if anyone has records of any suspicious body work done at the time of the accident," JJ suggested.

"Good idea, but the two cars may not have actually collided so there may be no damage to the other vehicle." Hotch seemed to finally notice Kayleigh. "Miss Beresford, thank you for bringing in the pictures. We'll make copies and get them back to you." He stood, his hand extended, "I'll get an officer to drive you home."

The young woman stood and shook his hand. "Thank you for coming here and looking into this." She turned to Reid, "Thanks for believing me Spencer. At least now I don't feel like I'm crazy. And thanks for driving me to the university."

Reid stood and took her extended hand which he held for, what the team thought, was just a bit too long. "Sure Leigh, no problem. It was my pleasure."

"Leigh," Emily mouthed to Morgan who grinned.

Kayleigh stepped towards the door with a tiny wave, "Good luck with your case."

Hotch picked up the phone asking the desk sergeant that an officer see Miss Beresford home, and then he turned to the team. "Okay, what have we got here?"

"Somebody's killing people arrested for drunk driving," JJ replied.

"We have to figure out if he or she is a revenge killer or a mission based killer?" Morgan interjected.

"Something happened sixteen months ago to send our unsub on a mission against drunk drivers," Hotch said.

"He had to know enough about our victims to know Gail Nevin took antidepressants and that Doug Potborski was allergic to nuts," Emily said as she paced back and forth in front of the pictures.

"He or she also had to have some level of medical knowledge to know that someone taking Effexor should never take an MAOI," Reid said.

"So maybe it happened further back than sixteen months and the unsub needed to plan," Rossi agreed, "to watch them."

"Morgan, go to the last crime scene and then look into the arrests, see if they were just pulled over or if they caused accidents." Hotch ordered. "Rossi, talk to the CSI who worked the scenes. Go over any evidence they found. JJ, have Garcia get us a list of all the arrests for DUI in the last sixteen months to two years. Maybe there's a pattern. Also have her look into any deaths caused by drunk drivers. Something set our unsub off. The death of a loved one by a drunk driver might have been the stressor or perhaps he was injured, hence the need for the stun gun. Reid, go over the autopsies with the coroner. Prentiss, you and I will talk to the families and colleagues of the decedents."

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Reid stood amid the hard, cold stainless steel surroundings of the morgue. The room seemed as lifeless as the bodies that inhabited it, while the bright lights seemed only to add to the depressing atmosphere. The silence was deafening until it was finally broken by Dr. Mavis Kinley pulling open drawer number seven that housed the autopsied body of Mike Vale.

"You can see the tazer marks here," the doctor, a middle aged African American woman with cornrow braids, clad in blue scrubs, said as she pulled back the drape and pointed to an area on the man's left side that revealed the familiar burn marks. "He hit the ground hard. There was a laceration on his head from where he hit the pavement. He was then bludgeoned with a blunt object."

"Like a baseball bat?" Reid asked

"Possibly," the doctor replied. "But I don't really think so, no wood fragments in the wounds at all, but it could have been aluminum. The indentation," she pointed to a depressed area on the back of the man's skull, "doesn't seem large enough for it to have been a bat. This is the wound that killed him though."

"Do you have any suggestions as to what the weapon might have been?"

"No, I couldn't say. Maybe forensics could give you more clues but there was nothing in the wound that I could send to trace because of the rain," the M.E. responded.

"Did you get anything at all about the killer from the body?" Reid asked again.

"Right handed," she looked at Reid and grinned slightly. "I know, that only lets out ten to fifteen percent of the population. Hard to tell the height because the poor guy was on the ground and his assailant was hitting him from above."

Reid opened one of the files he held in his hands, "Same thing with Carl Adolph," he pondered.

"Pretty much, tazered and stabbed while he was down. The knife had a sharp tip, about eight inches, not serrated. The first few stab wounds were tentative and didn't do much damage but one hit his aorta and then it was over for Mr. Adolph."

'Perhaps that's why the killer changed from stabbing to bludgeoning," Reid mused. "Doctor, in your professional opinion, from the force used, is it possible to tell whether the assailant was a man or a woman?"

"No, either one could have inflicted the wounds once the men were on the ground," Dr. Kinley replied.

"What made you do such an extensive tox screen on Ms. Nevin? Do you usually test for so many drugs such as Nardil?"

"No, not usually, but when I arrived at the scene and took a liver temp she was extremely hot. Her liver temp was 97.9 and that was after she'd been dead for at least three hours and there was nothing in the ambient temperature to support a liver temp that high. Rigor and lividity were partial and the thin cloudy film that forms over the eyes was present. Since the CSIs found Effexor in her home I naturally considered…"

"Seratonin syndrome," Reid replied.

"Exactly, I figured she must have mixed her Effexor with something she shouldn't have. The syndrome causes seizures, hallucinations, loss of coordination, as well as temps as high as 106. Any one of those things could have been responsible for the fact that she was found at the foot of the stairs."

"Since CSI was unable to find the Nardil in her home, that led to the testing of the capsules?" Reid clarified.

"Yes, it had to have gotten into her system some way."

The other deaths seemed pretty straight forward to Reid. "Thanks Dr. Kinley," he said as he made his way from cold confines of the morgue back to the land of the living.

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"I've put all the available photos and measurements through my software," Garcia told Rossi and JJ, the only ones in the conference room as the others had not returned from their assignments.

"What did you find?" Dave asked.

"Okay, from the looks of things Ian Chambers was traveling westward on the highway, presumably to his home just outside of town. Burn marks on the asphalt show that he suddenly veered to the left into the oncoming lane. He went through the other lane and onto the shoulder. No skid marks which meant he was likely slow to apply his brakes."

"Likely due to slow reflexes from a BAC of .16," Rossi interjected.

"Right," Garcia agreed, "so with his speed not greatly reduced, he hit the pole…hard."

"Yeah, I noticed all the damage to the vehicle," Rossi said. "Nobody would have survived that."

"So why did he veer to the left?" JJ asked. "If he'd drifted into the oncoming lane, wouldn't he turn the other way to right himself?"

"Yes…if he had veered into the other lane," Garcia said. "But the burn marks indicate he was in his lane, the westbound lane, when he suddenly turned."

"So he must have swerved to avoid something," JJ surmised, "like a deer."

"Or an oncoming vehicle," Rossi concluded. "That's how our unsub did this. It wasn't Chambers that went into the oncoming lane…"

"But our unsub," JJ finished for him.

Rossi nodded his head slowly. "In his drunken state with those bright headlights coming at him, possibly weaving back and forth toward the westbound shoulder and likely blinding him, Chambers did the only thing he could, he turned away from it."

"To his death," JJ said sadly.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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The team had returned from their individual assignments. "Let's go for lunch," Hotch suggested and we can discuss our findings while we eat and kill two birds with one stone." The others nodded and everyone stood and headed for the door.

"Spence," JJ said quietly, putting a hand on his arm. "Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure JJ," Reid turned back into the conference room and JJ handed him a small slip of paper. "What's this?" Reid looked confused.

"They're Kayleigh's phone numbers, her apartment and her cell."

"Why are you giving them to me?" he asked.

"Oh Spence, the fact that you have to ask…" JJ rolled her eyes. "So you can call her…maybe ask her out."

"JJ, she wouldn't be interested in me. Women don't…you know."

"Spence, I'm a woman and I saw the way she looked at you, she's interested, believe me, and, if I'm not mistaken, so are you."

Reid's cheeks turned pink and he seemed to find one of the grey tiles on the floor most interesting.

"Spence," JJ smiled. "There's nothing wrong with that. You're a great guy and I'd love to see you meet someone."

"As the only person who's ever been on a date with me you know…" the remark was left unfinished.

"You were very nervous, how could you not be? It was your first date and you should have had it ten years earlier. It was also orchestrated by Gideon. If it had been up to you, you wouldn't have chosen a football game. You were totally out of your element in two ways." She took his hand in both of hers. "Spence, I care a lot about you, you know I do, but not in that way. I chose you to be my son's godfather for God's sake."

"Look JJ, even if she does like me, it still wouldn't work. I'm in DC and she's here."

"Aargh," JJ groaned. "Look who you're talking to. I was in DC and Will was in New Orleans. Your godson is living proof that somehow we made it work. And New Orleans is a lot farther away than Charlottesville." She paused for a moment. "Please, just call one of those numbers. Start out slow, even if you only ask her if she'd like to catch a cup of coffee. See how it goes. If it's good, asking her on a date will be a little easier." She bent her head as her eyes tried to look pleadingly into his.

Reid raised his head and looked in her eyes. "Okay JJ, I'll call."

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The team members were cloistered at a table in the back of Schmitty's, a diner not far from the Charlottesville precinct. The restaurant consisted mostly of booths upholstered in dark green tweed which lined the three windowed walls of the establishment. A few tables for four made up the middle section while one longer table which seated six was located at the back. The windows were covered with lacy white curtains that allowed the sunlight to stream in on the shiny oak tables and chairs. The place was nearly filled to capacity and the team felt lucky to have gotten a table at all. After their orders had been taken by an energetic little blonde waitress named Cindy, Hotch said, "Let's go over what we know."

"A computer accident reconstruction done by Garcia suggests that Ian Chambers accident may have been engineered by the unsub," Rossi began.

"Garcia also sent a list of those mentioned in the newspaper who were arrested for DUI going back two years. There are a lot of them so it'll take some time to comb through them. The message is definitely not getting across," JJ added.

"Reid," Hotch said next.

Reid relayed his discussion with the ME. "If it's not a bat, I don't know what it could be. She said the stab wounds on Carl Adolph were tentative until he hit the aorta."

"Makes sense," Morgan said as he added cream to the coffee Cindy had poured for them. "It was his first physical attack against one of the victims. I didn't find anything at the site and going through the reports, all the drunk driving offenses had resulted in only minor injuries, if any, to another party."

"Hotch and I talked to the people who knew the victims," Emily began, "but according to Irene Minton's sister, the time her name made the paper was the one and only time she'd ever driven drunk. She said the incident frightened Irene so badly that she refused to drink at all after that and CSI didn't find any liquor in her house."

"I wonder if the unsub knew that. You'd think that learning their lesson would be something that would prevent him from killing someone," JJ surmised.

"Ms. Minton's family knew but it wasn't widely known." Hotch said, noticing Reid shift his eyes from the group to a point somewhere on the gold floral wallpaper of the restaurant and he continued quickly, "No one could think of anyone who would want to kill them. There weren't even any drunk or disorderlies among them. None of them were the kind of people to incur this level of wrath from someone."

"So you're sayin' we got nothin'," Morgan clarified as Cindy began bringing their meals.

"Only that the unsub has his own reasons, that seem make sense to him, for killing these people," Rossi responded.

"Maybe Kayleigh was right, the unsub's trying to communicate, to spell out his mission by leaving the letters at the scene," JJ suggested as she put a French fry in her mouth.

"It's enough for a preliminary profile which we'll deliver when we get back. Let's eat," Hotch said as he spooned some steaming tomato soup from his bowl.

"So pretty boy, oh sorry, I mean...you can call me Spencer. What's up with you and the lovely Kayleigh?" Morgan asked, smirking while chewing on his double cheeseburger.

"Don't you mean Leigh?" Emily asked Morgan slyly as she stabbed some ham and lettuce from her Cobb salad.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, it's Leigh now, isn't it?" Morgan emphasized the shortening of the girl's name. "My man!"

Reid's face had gone from pink to bright red and he stared at his bowl of fettuccini Alfredo. "Nothing's going on. I just drove her to the campus to get her pictures, that's all."

"Okay, if that's your story," Morgan quipped. "But when you got her pictures, did you happen to get her number?"

Reid choked on his water almost spitting it out across the table at Emily while JJ's eyes threw daggers at Emily who said, "We better get eating, we've got a lot of work to do."

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The team stood in the bullpen in front of the, still mostly disbelieving, Charlottesville PD officers to give the profile. Hotch began, "You are dealing with what's known as a mission based killer. There is no sexual component to these crimes that's why the victims are both male and female. In this case the killer's mission is drunk drivers."

"He or she has taken time to study the victims and kills at various times during the day," Prentiss said, "so does likely not have a full time job. The unsub doesn't kill the same way each time which makes him or her even harder to track."

"The important thing to know about mission based killers," Morgan added, "is that they will not stop until they're caught. Their mission is all important to them."

"We think this unsub may have suffered at the hands of a drunk driver either being injured or losing a loved one." Rossi said. "We call this the stressor. Because the killings started sixteen months ago, the stressor probably occurred about that time or a little earlier so we have to look at drunk driving accidents in that time period that resulted in injury or loss."

"It appears," Reid said, "that the unsub has been trying to communicate with us, to get the message out by leaving spray painted letters near each of the crime scenes." He paced the front of the room interlacing his long fingers. "These people will often try to get attention through contact with the media or by inserting themselves into the investigation. So far that hasn't happened."

Rossi turned and quietly slipped out of the bullpen, returning to the conference room. He quickly pulled his cell from his pocket and hit speed dial.

"_Seek and I shall find," _Garcia said.

"Garcia, I need you to check on something for me."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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The girl had become a problem. Why had she gotten involved? She'd even been at some of the scenes. It was because of her interference that the FBI was here looking into things. That wasn't good. The mission was too important to let anything or anyone stop it now. The message had to get out. People had to understand. They had to pay for what they had done. They had to pay.

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Rossi was at the small table near the white board adding cream and sugar to a cup of coffee when the team returned to the conference room after giving the profile. Hotch headed for the table as well and began pouring a cup for himself. "What's up Dave?" Hotch asked quietly. "I know you didn't leave the profile because of a sudden craving for a cup of coffee."

"I was just thinking when Reid was giving his portion of the profile," Rossi answered barely above a whisper, "who brought the murders to our attention? Who sat here in this room with us while we talked about the case? In effect, who injected herself into the investigation?"

"You're thinking that maybe Miss Beresford…?" Hotch asked.

"Begs the question. Did she use her beauty and charm to get to Reid's vulnerability with women? We always say the unsubs themselves make the best profilers."

"So…" Hotch began only to be interrupted by Rossi.

"I called Garcia. I've got her checking into the lovely Miss Beresford."

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Garcia's fingers flew over the keys. She couldn't believe it when Agent Rossi had asked her to look into Kayleigh Beresford. "Enrolled in University of Virginia, Department of Law," she read on the screen. "She's carrying a 4.0 average, way to go sister. Owns a 2001 Pontiac Sunfire, license number AVX 1497, no wants, no warrants. She has an apartment on Ivy Road, close to the university and no part time job which means she's not worried about money. So let's look at your financials girl." Her hands moved over the keys again. "Wo, that's a lot of money! Okay, pays rent, utilities, groceries, books and tuition, a little on entertainment and a donation every month to…oh!" Garcia's red lips made a big circle. "Okay, let's go back a little further," her fingers skipped over the keyboard as she got to know Kayleigh Beresford. "Born and raised in Minneapolis, parents divorced when she was six. When she was seventeen…" Garcia's hand reached over quickly to press the button on her phone to contact the team.

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Hotch and Rossi turned to face the others. "Dave's asked Garcia to look into Kayleigh Breresford," Hotch informed them.

"Why?" JJ asked. "Did something happen?"

"Because she's why we're here," Rossi replied. "She conveniently pointed out the 'evidence' that there was a serial killer. She sat in this very room with us. As we all know and Reid pointed out in the profile, contacting the police or the media and injecting themselves into the investigation is textbook behavior for our unsubs."

"So…what," Morgan said, "you think she's been playing Reid?"

Everyone turned their eyes toward the young genius. "Oh, of course," Reid responded sarcastically, "that would have to be it wouldn't it Morgan? Unlike you, a girl couldn't just like me. To pay any attention to me she'd have to be playing me, wouldn't she?"

"Hey kid, I didn't mean…" Morgan began as Reid got to his feet.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to go to the men's room," Reid said as he quickly walked out of the room.

Morgan made a move to go after him. "Morgan, leave him be," Hotch said as the phone in the conference room rang.

Prentiss pushed the button. "What have you got for us Garcia?"

"_You guys are really going to want to hear this,"_ the tech said.

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Reid splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror as the drops of water meandered down his cheeks, onto his chin and finally rested on the black jacket he'd worn today with a grey shirt and pants, a black sweater vest with white trim coordinated with a tie in black white and grey diamonds. What was it about him? He asked himself. Why was he so unattractive to women? After Austin had sent back his card with those lip prints he'd thought that maybe the tide had turned but now he guessed it wasn't so. He should have expected something like this. No woman had ever wanted to be with him. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped his face. It was time to go back and face the music, not to mention the likely ridicule and teasing from Morgan. He threw the balled up paper towel into the trash and headed back to the conference room.

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"_Okay, I checked on your girl."_ Garcia's voice filled the conference room. _"There's no questionable activity that I can see…but…she does have an outrageously large amount of money in her bank account. So I checked back. In 2001 her mother, Grace, was seriously injured in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. She was a quadriplegic following the accident and received a huge settlement from the driver's insurance company. Kayleigh, who was seventeen at the time, dropped everything to care for her mother at home. Two years ago her mother died from pneumonia which the autopsy said was caused by her immobility due to her quadriplegia. Kayleigh was the beneficiary of the remainder of her mother's settlement plus a large insurance policy that Grace Beresford had put in place before her accident. No father in the picture, divorced when Kayleigh was six. Kayleigh doesn't spend a lot of the money but she does make_ _a donation every month to MADD."_ Garcia finished just as Reid entered the room.

"Fits the profile," Prentiss said.

"She's got a motive to hate drunk drivers, that's for sure," Morgan replied.

"And if she cared for her mother for six years, she's definitely got medical knowledge," Rossi added.

"She has sufficient finances, which means she doesn't have to work and can have an apartment and not have to confine herself to dorm hours or rules, so she has time to surveil the victims," Hotch finished as he noticed Reid had entered the room.

Reid looked at no one as he returned to his seat. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he said, "So what do we do now?"

"We want you to go on a date," Hotch replied.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

_cmcmcmcm_

"A date," Reid repeated in awe. "Why would you want me to go on a date with Leigh…I mean, Kayleigh if you think she's only using me as a pawn in her murder scheme?"

"Because you're the one she trusts," Hotch responded.

"Trusts," Reid said with disdain, "don't you mean I'm the one she thinks she can make a fool of?"

"Reid," Rossi said, sitting in the chair beside the young man. "We need you to profile her. We need to get up close and personal to find out what she's up to."

"Then why don't you send Morgan? I'm sure he'd stand a much better chance of getting up close and personal than I would."

"No, that wouldn't work," Prentiss said, a smug expression on her face. "Like you yourself told me in Atlanta with Viper, it'll take someone she's already attracted to."

"She's not attracted to me." Reid banged his fist on the table. "Women aren't attracted to me, don't you get that."

"I don't believe that," JJ said quietly. "I watched her; the way she held your hand and looked at you, it was real. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah right, okay Morgan, you better tell me what to do and say," Reid said as he resigned himself to the task he'd been assigned. How could he be dreading something that he had been looking forward to only a few hours ago?

Morgan sighed at his friend's discomfort. "Look man, I didn't mean anything by what I said before."

"Forget it Morgan. Just tell me what I need to do."

"Okay, call Kayleigh and ask her out for coffee. Try to get her to talk about herself, be alert to her nonverbal cues, if she's particularly nervous about any of your questions…"

"Morgan," Reid interrupted irritably, "I know how to profile someone. Tell me how to do the date thing."

While the two profilers talked, Hotch pulled Rossi aside. "That certainly went well didn't it?"

"We had no choice Aaron. We have to do it." Dave whispered.

"I know," Hotch nodded; his expression severe and yet the concern for his youngest agent showed through. "I just wish Reid didn't have to get hurt in all of this. He's been through a lot, too much."

"I get it Hotch," Dave stressed. "Do you think I did this on purpose to get back at him, to hurt him because we disagreed in the beginning and he was right? I was with him in that hypnotist's office in Vegas Aaron. I saw first hand what I'm sure is only a small part of the pain that is locked away in that brilliant mind."

_cmcmcmcm_

The sunshine of the afternoon had given way to twilight. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon but was also hiding behind clouds that had, once again, drifted into the area bringing with them a brisk westerly wind that had cooled things down considerably, increasing the possibility that these clouds might hold, not rain, but snow. Reid stared at the streaks of orange behind the clouds that melded into purple on the horizon. Normally he would think it was beautiful but this evening it didn't register. Neither did he feel any of the cold as he sat on a bench outside the Charlottesville Police Station. He had made his phone call to Kayleigh under Morgan's watchful eye and she had readily accepted his invitation to coffee. He'd almost wished she'd refused but he had a job to do. The team was counting on him. He felt more than saw the bench give way with the weight of another occupant.

"Rough day," Rossi said as he clasped his hands together and looked into the setting sun.

"Look, I'm sorry…for what I said to you. I know how badly you felt about Zoe and I didn't want the fact that Kayleigh might be right to be on my conscience. I thought I'd get Garcia to look into it and there'd be nothing…"

"But it didn't turn out that way," Rossi interrupted. "You don't need to apologize; you went with your gut and you were right." He turned his head to look at Reid.

Reid nodded his head, "Thanks," he said. He stood up, "I better get going."

Rossi looked up at him from his place on the bench, "A piece of advice…be yourself. Don't try to be Morgan. You don't give yourself enough credit. You've got a lot more going for you than you think. I've seen that. You're not just a genius."

_cmcmcmcm_

Reid pushed the button for the elevator in Kayleigh's apartment building. The doors to the car opened immediately causing Reid to wonder why elevators took so long when you were in a hurry but when you wished for it to take its time it came instantly. His logical mind told him that the elevator was a machine that had no way of knowing his desire, or lack thereof, for its timely appearance. It was just the way his mind perceived things he decided as he got off on the third floor and headed down the carpeted hallway in search of apartment 311. He hesitated momentarily, and then rang the doorbell.

Kayleigh opened the door a few moments later giving him a broad smile, "Hi Spencer," she opened the door wider to allow him entrance. "I'm so glad you called."

Reid was speechless for a moment. The jeans and tank she'd worn this morning had been replaced by a denim dress that hugged her curves, ending a few inches above her knees. A black braided leather belt encircled her waist. She'd left her dress unbuttoned at the neck revealing a necklace in ceramic beads that matched her dress and an identical bead adorned each earlobe. The black boots were the only reminder of this morning's outfit. She had more makeup on this evening and it brought out the color of her eyes, the darker lipstick making the shape of her lips more pronounced. How could someone in a simple denim dress look so stunning?

"Uh, hi Leigh," Reid said hoping that Kayleigh hadn't thought he'd just been ogling her, well he had, hadn't he? "I'm glad you accepted. I love my team but sometimes there's just a little too much togetherness, if you know what I mean."

"I better get my coat," she said turning to the closet that was just inside the door and removing a black coat.

"Here let me help you," Reid offered taking the coat from her and waiting while she put her arms in the sleeves. "I definitely think you need the coat. It feels like snow out there."

"Snow doesn't bother me," she said as they headed down the hallway to the elevator. "I was born and raised in Minneapolis."

"Yeah, you'd be used to snow up there," Reid said as they entered the car. The ride down to the ground floor was silent. When they reached the SUV Reid held the door for her, and then went around to the driver's side, seating himself before he asked where she'd like to go, not knowing the best places in Charlottesville.

"We could go to the Mudhouse on Main Street. They make the best iced coffee. It's kind of a funky place. There are a lot of people there on laptops or playing chess. It's a good atmosphere."

"Good, sounds like my kind of place," Reid replied as he programmed the GPS.

_cmcmcmcm_

The team was going through the long list of drunk drivers' cases that they had received from Garcia. "Do we really have to do all this," Morgan asked, "if we think Kayleigh is our killer?"

"Yes," Hotch responded sternly. "If Kayleigh Beresford is not our unsub, I don't want to have wasted a whole evening.

"And perhaps we can get an idea of who might be the next target," Rossi added.

"I still can't believe I'm here going through all this paperwork while the 20,000 word a minute reader is out on a date with a sexy woman," Morgan complained.

"Who might be a serial killer," Emily added.

"Well yeah, when you put it that way…."

_cmcmcmcm_

"I know what you're thinking," Kayleigh said as she sat across from Reid with her hands around an iced coffee. "It's getting cold out there so why are we drinking iced coffee?"

"You said it was the best. How could I resist?" Reid said as he sipped the cold brew admitting to himself that it was indeed the best he'd ever had. "So you came here from Minneapolis; a long way from home."

"Yeah, my mother passed away a couple of years ago and there was nothing keeping me there so I decided to make a new start somewhere else," she told him.

"Had she been ill?" Reid inquired innocently.

Kayleigh nodded and looked down at her hands, "She'd been a quadriplegic since a car accident eight years ago. I nursed her until she passed. I didn't have the heart to put her away in a nursing home. You don't know what it's like to have a sick parent who you know is only going to deteriorate and there's nothing you can do."

Reid reached over tentatively, barely touching Kayleigh's chilly fingers with his warm ones and choked out as she raised her eyes to meet his, "Leigh, you have no idea."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Kayleigh looked up; tears glistening in her green eyes, which asked the question her voice couldn't speak.

"My mother," Reid said. "Schizophrenia, my dad walked out on us when I was ten. I knew if she was hospitalized I'd end up in foster care. I didn't want that nightmare." He swallowed hard. "I know it was selfish of me. She needed full time professional care, the care a sanitarium could provide and when I was eighteen I…"

Kayleigh's finger's squeezed his. "Oh Spencer, you took on so much as a young boy. I felt I'd been overloaded at seventeen but ten. What kind of monster is your father?"

Reid was silent for a moment. "I've found out after all these years that he isn't one." He laughed disdainfully, "Although I did my best to make him out to be. I've seen monsters, believe me, and, thank God, my father isn't one. He had his reasons and although I still haven't forgiven him, I'm trying to understand." After a brief silence, Reid smiled, "So what made you come all the way to Charlottesville from Minneapolis?" He looked out the window as a few snowflakes began to fall. "And don't say the weather."

"I didn't want to go to a huge place like New York or Chicago so I researched schools and picked the University of Virginia. I packed up my car to the limit, had a huge yard sale and started out here fresh. Why are you smirking?"

"I did the exact same thing when I was eighteen. I got my mother settled into a sanitarium, sold the house, put the money in trust for my mother, packed up her old Volvo and waved good bye to Las Vegas. I already had two of my doctorates by then and was working on my third. A man named Jason Gideon gave a seminar at Cal Tech much like the one Rossi and I did and we hit it off. He helped get the bureau to relax the rules and allow me in at twenty-one. So I drove across country to Quantico. He was my mentor until he retired a couple years ago."

"So," Kayleigh took a sip of her coffee. "He passed the torch on to you so to speak."

Reid thought for a moment. He'd never looked at it quite that way. He'd always felt abandoned by Gideon but maybe that wasn't so. Maybe it had just been time, the natural progression of things. Perhaps the teacher had shared all he could with the student and now it was time for the student to stand on his own and pass what he'd learned on to others. He thought of the students he and Rossi stood before at seminars just like Gideon had stood before his group at Cal-Tech and of his young friend, Eric, in the park and how the chess games they played reminded him of the ones he'd had with Gideon but the roles were now reversed. Did Eric look up to him in any way, like the way he'd looked up to Gideon, he wondered? "Yeah, perhaps you're right," he nodded.

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The pair stood outside Kayleigh's door. "Would you like to come in for a nightcap? Well not in the usual sense, I don't drink. I actually mean just another cop of coffee; I make a great cappuccino."

"Sure, I'd like that; I'll never say no to coffee," Reid replied as they entered the apartment. She took off her coat and put it in the closet leading him into the living area. Reid was impressed. It wasn't like any of his accommodations in college. It actually wasn't even like his apartment now. The living and dining room encompassed one large area. The focus was the couch in warm rich sienna with large round feet, which almost resembled cantaloupes, in a wood stained the same tone as the upholstery. Behind it was a painting featuring silhouettes of giant cacti in the backdrop of the fiery setting sun. It was, Reid thought, oddly, both vivid and tranquil. Matching end tables with carved legs and round feet topped with lamps in a bright southwestern motif and a coffee table completed the left side of the large room. A large window looked out onto a park that was across the street. A sofa table stood in front of the window and held a large Boston fern, its brilliant green fronds growing in every direction. The other end of the window was taken up by a corner entertainment center and next to that, on the diagonal, another end table and a chair that matched the sofa.

Behind the chair stood a China cabinet that displayed other examples of southwestern art such as plates and vases. Across the room and next to the couch and end table was a small dining room table with only two chairs, the seats upholstered in the same sienna fabric. To the left of the dining table was a small galley kitchen with wood cabinets and terra cotta tiles on the floor and backsplash. The furniture and art imparted vibrancy and color while the fern brought the room to life. "Wow, what a great place," Reid said as his eyes took in the room.

"Thanks, I like it. My mother always liked those home improvement shows on TV and when she was…uh sick; we used to watch them together. Here I had a blank canvas and I thought I'd put some of what I learned to use. Why don't you make yourself at home while I make the cappuccino?" She said.

"Do you think I could use the bathroom?" Reid asked.

"Sure, it's right that way," she pointed to the hallway past the china cabinet.

Reid headed down the hallway passing a bedroom and another smaller room with a desk, computer and shelves full of books. He could hear the coffee machine starting to work and he closed the bathroom door while quickly darting into the small office. He searched the tidy desk for a list of victims or any sign that she had information on them but nothing was in plain sight. He silently opened the drawers. There were no newspaper articles that he could find related to the crimes, nothing an unsub would use to relive the experience. He checked her computer for her ISP address. He would get Garcia to look into that in the morning.

He quickly ducked out of the room and into the bathroom which was decorated in a deep wine color from the shower curtain and towels to the glass, soap dish and toothbrush holder. The room was neat, tidy and spotlessly clean. He opened the medicine cabinet and found nothing untoward, the usual toiletries, Tylenol and a box of tampons that made him blush. There was no prescription medication like Nardil. He grabbed her hairbrush and pulled some of the hairs from it, wrapped them in a tissue and put it in his pocket. He asked himself why he'd done it. No DNA had been recovered at the scenes as far as he knew and even so, this was definitely an illegal search that would never hold up in court. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands at the sink and headed back to the living room.

"Brownies," Kayleigh said as Reid entered the room to see her placing a plate on the coffee table. "I must confess I'm a chocoholic." She'd removed her boots and was now in stocking feet. "Sit, I'll get the cappuccino."

Reid sat on the couch and took a brownie. "Ths..r..egslt," Reid said as Kayleigh returned with the coffee.

"What," she said giggling.

Reid swallowed, "These are excellent," he repeated, taking the mug she offered,

"thanks."

"Glad you're enjoying it. How's the investigation going?" she asked sitting down beside him on the sofa.

So this was it, Reid thought, the moment of truth. Although she was sitting what would be considered an acceptable distance away, he thought, he could feel the warmth from her body, the scent of her perfume wafted towards him mixing with the aroma of the coffee… Had he told Emily that smell was the weakest sense? Was he nuts? _Concentrate!_ "We're looking into some leads. It's often not a fast process."

Kayleigh turned on the couch to face him. "Am I evil if I say I understand why the killer's doing this?"

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"Are we forgetting that Kayleigh was with Detective Tully at the time of one of the murders?" JJ asked.

"I spoke to Detective Tully about that," Hotch replied as he put down the file he'd been reading. "It appears that although they responded to the hit and run, she wasn't actually here when the call came in. I guess that's what got her and Tully off on the wrong foot right from the start. She arrived a few minutes later, apologizing for being late and blaming it on a long winded professor."

Morgan looked at his watch, put the file he was reading down and rubbed his eyes. "Shouldn't Reid be back by now? He asked. "It was only coffee after all. Maybe we should have sent backup."

Emily raised her eyebrows.

"Oh no," Morgan scoffed. "Reid wouldn't………would he?"

"Well," JJ said, "he's been known to risk his body before for the greater good."

"Yeah," Emily agreed with a smirk, "maybe he's taking one for the team."

"Files," Hotch said sternly. The three teammates returned back to their files while Rossi held his up to disguise his grin.

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"No," Reid replied. "I've had cases where I sympathized with the unsub."

"It's just that a drunk driver was responsible for my mother's accident but because he didn't kill her he only got a license suspension and a fine." Tears began to fall down her cheeks. "It wasn't as if because her heart hadn't stopped beating that her life wasn't over. So I understand what he's doing. I know it's wrong but I can't help it." She reached her hand up to wipe her tears away only to find Reid's hand had gotten there before hers.

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The clock on the wall was nearing midnight when Reid entered the conference room. "Pretty boy, finally, that must have been some cup of coffee," Morgan said as Reid walked through the door.

"Morgan," Hotch admonished. "Did you find anything Reid?"

"I couldn't find anything in her apartment that might link her to the murders. No newspaper articles or lists of drunk drivers and no trophies of any kind. He pulled the tissue from his pocket. I managed to get some hair from her brush we can use for DNA if it becomes necessary." He paused for a moment. "Personally, I don't think she's involved," he said sitting at the table. "She was very forthcoming. She even says she sympathizes with the killer because of her mother. She looked me straight in the eye, no left facing eye movements. Her body language wasn't stiff or limited at all and she displayed no defensive posturing. No tells in her voice or mannerisms. She told me that she came here to start fresh and I believe she did. Everything in her place appears to be new and well organized, not like someone stuck in the past. I got her ISP address so Garcia can check over her computer in the morning. But, like I said, I really don't think she's involved."

"Okay," Hotch said. "Let's call it a night and start fresh in the morning."

The team happily filed from the room. Rossi passed Reid in the doorway and whispered. "A word to the wise, your profile and defense of the lovely Kayleigh would be a lot more convincing if you didn't have makeup on your collar."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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What was that sound? Kayleigh Beresford opened her eyes after being interrupted during a very pleasurable, if not rather erotic, dream starring a certain profiler named Spencer Reid. She shook herself awake and reached over to turn off the alarm. What was she thinking? They had only been out for coffee; shared some similar experiences and he had allowed her to cry on his shoulder, literally.

She hadn't had anyone to lean on since her mother's accident and he was so understanding and compassionate that the dam had suddenly just burst, and it seemed that once it had, there was no way to stop it. He probably thought she was some blithering idiot. Surely that put her out of the running for a second date. He was so intelligent; his usual dates were likely much more sophisticated than she was. Sophisticated…huh…she'd had a few dates with boys in high school but after her mother's accident all of her time had been taken up with looking after her mom and when she'd died, taking care of her affairs, moving here and starting over. She hadn't had a date in…she'd rather not think about it. She was positive that he would notice how inexperienced she was though she'd tried not to show it. He hadn't seemed to pick up on it though.

Now she was imagining him… Who could control their dreams, she told herself as an excuse, rising to sit on the side of the double bed? It had been nice while it lasted she admitted to herself staring accusingly at the alarm clock that proclaimed it to be 7:30 am. Why did it seem like in winter your alarm clock woke you in the middle of the night? She stretched and turned on one of the grey shaded lamps beside her bed. She looked around the room, somehow seeming unable to just jump up and face the day like she usually did.

She threw back the black and grey striped comforter that seemed brought to life by muted pink flowers with just a hint of azure. The carpet on the floor was grey and she'd painted the walls herself, a shade that matched the flowers, mistyrose, she remembered from the paint chip. It had been cathartic for her. She'd wanted everything in her life to be new and fresh and she remembered the pride she'd felt when she was done. A white six drawer chest of drawers stood on one side of the room while a grey glider rocker claimed the other. A pink throw rested on the back of the chair, crocheted lovingly by her mother's hands before they had become paralyzed. It was what she'd decorated this room around. She guessed that some things were just too precious to leave behind, even for a fresh start. The boldness of the southwestern art seen in the living room was nonexistent here. This room was tranquil. She looked at the adornments on the wall. Gone were the posters of her teen years, being replaced instead by a glorious pink sunset and beautiful Chinese fans. She looked at the clock on the white nightstand and raised her eyes to the window behind the bed. In summer the room would be flooded with light by this time. That was one of the things she'd loved about this room. The clock seemed to be goading her. "Alright, alright," she said to the object. "I'm getting up."

After showering, dressing, gathering the books she'd need for the day and grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, Kayleigh opened the closet door to retrieve her jacket hoping that it hadn't snowed too much during the night. Something caught her eye, what's this she thought as she bent to pick it up.

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"Reid, my man, you took a long time over coffee with 'Leigh' last night. So tell me what did you two talk about for so long?"

"Nothing special Morgan, we talked about our lives. She said she was sympathetic to the unsub's mission and wondered if that made her seem evil because of it. I told her I'd been known to be empathetic to an unsub myself." He hazarded a glance at Hotch.

"Morgan, that's enough, Reid profiled the woman and he doesn't think she's involved," Hotch said. "So we need to find out who is."

"I know Hotch but I'm just wondering if Kayleigh's as innocent as Reid thinks or whether he thinks it because he wants it to be so." He turned to the youngest team member. "I mean we all know how far you'll go when you want to believe something. You pushed and pushed to try and prove your own father was a pedophile even though he didn't fit the profile. This chick does fit the profile and you're still positive she's not the unsub. All I'm saying is you may have lost your objectivity."

"Oh, I've lost my objectivity," Reid snapped. "I'm sure that's never happened to you Morgan. Tamara Barnes comes to mind." He nodded at the surprise on his friend's face. "Yeah, you thought I didn't know about her didn't you? I see more than people think I do. You were a little less than objective where she was concerned, weren't you?"

"Alright," Hotch's voice snapped as did the file he slapped on the table. "We've gone through the files and found all victims that were injured in drunk driving accidents. Let's start following up on them to see if they or a rel…" Hotch stopped as he looked up at the doorway. "Miss Beresford, is there something we can do for you?"

The team turned to see Kayleigh standing in the doorway. Today she wore black denim jeans that covered her boots. From what they could see from the top of her coat, she'd paired them with a black shirt and a white turtleneck. "You can tell me if this is true," she said holding out a piece of white paper.

Rossi stood and looked over the paper, grabbing a glove from his pocket; he used it to take hold of it and passed it and the glove to Hotch. "Miss Beresford," Hotch said as he passed the paper to Morgan who read it as Prentiss looked over his shoulder, "where did you get this?"

"I found it just inside my door this morning. Someone must have pushed it under the door last night." She paused, crossing her arms in front of her, her green eyes on fire. "Is it true?"

The note had passed to JJ and Reid and the words seemed to leap off the page.

_**Do not trust the profiler. He and his team suspect you are the killer.**_

_**It is why he asked you out. He is not your friend.**_

"Miss Beresford," Hotch began.

"Is it true?" Kayleigh interrupted.

"No, it's not totally true," Hotch tried to explain.

"It's my fault," Rossi admitted. "Unsub's often inject…"

"Themselves into the investigation," Kayleigh finished for him testily. "I read all your books remember. So now a citizen can't come forward when they think there's something horrific going on and not become a suspect? Okay," she spat adamantly. "Do what you have to. Get a warrant; look for the blunt object or the knife. Give me a lie detector if you have to. Bring it on."

"That won't be necessary," Hotch said. "Reid has assured us that he doesn't believe you're involved."

"Oh, of course, he was profiling me on our 'date.'" she made quotation marks with her fingers. "How could I forget?" She turned to look at Reid, hurt replacing the anger in her eyes. "I thought you were such a nice guy. I was so happy when you called me and we went out on that 'date.' I thought what a great guy you were and where had you been all my life. And all the time you were just…"

"Please, don't blame Reid," JJ said. "He was only following Hotch's orders."

"Well," she said to Hotch, "you should give him a raise because he really did a good job of making me think how nice he was and that he sincerely cared about me." She turned to Reid again. "I suppose that was all a story about caring for your own sick mother when you were just a kid."

"You told her about that," Morgan said, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

"You must have been laughing when…"

"N…no, I wasn't, I…" Reid stopped suddenly and pointed at the note. "Did you say someone slid this under your door?"

Kayleigh nodded, "Why?"

"That means the unsub knows about you. He knew about our date. How could he know that?"

"Are you saying I wrote this to bring more attention to myself? Do you want to check my handwriting now too?"

"No," Reid replied, "I wasn't thinking that at all."

"Right," Morgan picked up on Reid's train of thought. "Who outside this building knew about the date and the reason for it?"

"No one," Prentiss responded.

Reid looked at Hotch, almost whispering, "Could our unsub be a cop?"


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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"A cop," Emily said while the team sat gaping at the thought, though they knew that an unsub could come from any walk of life.

"Well, I guess if you think about it," Reid said, "who's first on all these accident scenes?"

"Cops," JJ replied.

"Who sees the damage done to the vehicles first hand, the bodies, who has to go to families to make notifications and arrest people knowing that they'll get nothing more than a license suspension and a fine?" Reid continued.

"Maybe one of them finally snapped," Rossi concluded.

"And he wouldn't really have to inject himself into the investigation," Morgan added. "He's already part of it."

"The blunt object," Reid said. "The M.E. said it seemed smaller than a bat. What about a baton?"

"That's possible kid," Morgan agreed.

Hotch turned to Kayleigh, "Miss Beresford, I'm sorry for any distress we may have caused you. That was not our intent. I hope from your knowledge of the investigative process and from reading Agent Rossi's books you'll understand why we simply had to look at you."

"I would have cooperated completely if you'd asked," Kayleigh responded.

"We couldn't take that chance," Hotch replied.

"Yeah, I get it. You had to send your boy to profile me." She gave Reid a stony glare. "May I go now?"

"Yes, thank you for bringing in the note," Hotch replied.

Kayleigh turned without another word and strode from the room. She was halfway through the bullpen when she was stopped by someone calling her name. She turned to see JJ hurrying to catch up with her.

"Please Kayleigh wait," the blonde agent said softly.

"What," Kayleigh responded harshly. "Haven't you invaded my life enough? I'm sorry now that I approached Spen…Dr. or Agent Reid, whatever you call him, and Agent Rossi. I should have kept my suspicions to myself."

"You know that's not true. You're not the kind of person who could live with that," JJ told her.

"Wow, that's not what you thought last night. Last night you thought I was a killer," the pretty brunette spat out, her eyes blazing.

"We didn't think it. It was just an avenue we had to follow."

"Okay, I already heard it from Agent Hotchner," she glanced around sensing the curious eyes of the people in the bullpen on them. "You don't need to repeat it." Kayleigh turned to leave until JJ reached out to touch her arm.

"Please, don't blame Spence. He didn't want to do it," JJ said as Kayleigh raised her eyebrows. "I don't mean he didn't want to go out with you," she clarified at the young woman's expression. "I mean he didn't want to use a date to profile you. He wanted to go out with you. He was going to call you and then Rossi presented the idea that you might be involved and Hotch ordered him to go. Your gut was right. Spence is a great guy. He's cute and sweet. He's the godfather of my son. I wouldn't trust my son's future to someone who wasn't something special." She paused for a moment. "And, for what it's worth, we worked with Spence for a long time before we found out about his mother. It's not something he readily shares with people but he seemed to trust you enough to tell you. I know you're upset by what transpired and I can't say I blame you, but please, don't take it out on Spence. If you do you'll miss out on one of the finest men I've ever known."

"Is that all?" Kayleigh said impatiently when JJ had finished.

"Yes," JJ replied as Kayleigh turned and headed toward the exit to the precinct. Oh well, she'd tried she thought as she turned back toward the conference room and the search for their unsub.

Kayleigh sat in the driver's seat of her car but made no move to turn on the ignition. What was she supposed to think? Had what she'd felt from Spencer last night been real or just a ploy to get into her psyche? He'd seemed sincere when they had talked last evening and Agent Jareau seemed to think he was a good person but, could she trust him? Could she trust her own feelings ever again? She shook the thoughts from her head; put the key in the ignition and the car's engine roared to life. She couldn't think about this now, she thought as she backed out of her parking space. She had classes to get to.

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"Do you really think it could be a cop?" Prentiss asked the other agents in the room.

"JJ close the door please," Hotch said as she returned to the conference room. "I don't know; but the fact that he knew about Kayleigh and the date suggests it was someone from the precinct."

"Hotch," Reid said, looking at the note again although the words were already etched in his mind. "Do you think Kayleigh might be in any kind of danger? I mean the unsub might blame her for getting us here in the first place to get in the way of his mission."

JJ allowed herself a small smirk. If Kayleigh had only been here now she'd have seen the real Reid. Although she had been angry and spiteful towards him, he wasn't thinking about that. His paramount concern was about her safety.

"Normally I'd agree with that," Rossi said, "but from the wording of the note it seems like he's not warning her to stay out of this but warning her about Reid. The note sounds more like someone who's trying to protect her."

"Maybe he knows what happened to her mother," JJ suggested. "That would go along with it being someone who had himself or had a family member hurt by a drunk driver. Though he doesn't want us to stop his mission, he wouldn't hurt Kayleigh because she's been through the same thing he has. He feels connected to her and if he gets her to view us as the enemy it will help his cause."

"I think you're right JJ," Hotch agreed. "I don't think he wants to hurt her. He may feel she's been through enough." The unit chief looked at his youngest agent. "Reid, I'm sorry for what just happened. I'm sorry I put you in that position."

Reid shrugged, "It's okay Hotch, it's not like I'm the guy that's supposed to get the girl. It's not like it's anything new. So," he changed the subject quickly, "how do we go about investigating one of the cops in the precinct without any of them knowing? We don't know who we can trust."

"I guess we trust who we always trust," Prentiss said…"Garcia."

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"Let me get this straight," Garcia's face, framed today with auburn pigtails, was on the computer screen, "you want me to look into members of the Charlottesville Police Department? What exactly would I be looking for?"

"Well, firstly anyone who had a family member hurt in a car accident involving a drunk driver," Hotch responded.

"Also anyone who seemed pissed off at the system. You might have to go into their yearly phych evals," Rossi continued.

"Ooh, now I really don't like the sound of that," Garcia protested. "This is private stuff."

"I know, but you have to do it baby girl," Morgan said.

The team could see the look on Garcia's face on the computer screen and Hotch was reminded of the work she had done for them on their case in Royal. "I know this is hard for you Garcia," Hotch said softly, "but we can't investigate the police officers in their own precinct. We'd never get invited in again if local LEOs discovered that."

"Understood sir, I'll get back to you when I know anything." The tech's face suddenly disappeared and the FBI logo took over the screen once again.

Garcia sat staring at her computer screens, her fingers immobile on the keyboard. Why did she always have to do this? Why did she have to uncover the darkest things about her fellow human beings, things that may have turned them into monsters? Because they were monsters she told herself, because you never knew when the monster would strike again and, most of all, because the monster could be the man next door. With new resolve her fingers flew over the keys.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews and PMs, they are much appreciated.

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Manuel Ortega, Manny to everyone who knew him, dumped a package of coffee into the filter and started a new pot brewing for the lunchtime rush. 'Manny's Grill' was a favorite hangout of the local cops and paramedics as it was only a few blocks from both the precinct and the fire hall.

As if on cue, the coffee began to drip into the pot just as the door opened to admit three uniformed officers. "Hey Manny," they called and waved as they settled into one of the many booths upholstered in a navy blue vinyl on either side of a table topped in a laminate that, as the sun shone brightly through the windows, resembled a shiny wood finish.

"Hey guys," Manny replied as he grabbed the other coffee pot and headed for their table. Les Hermanson, Jeff Grant and Kenny Jaworski turned their mugs upright feasting on the aroma of the brew as Manny approached. "So what's new today fellas? The feds still here?"

"Yeah, not that they're doing any good," Les said. "They gave us this profile yesterday that says we got a serial killer trying to get rid of drunk drivers."

"I say more power to him." Kenny raised his mug.

The door to the café opened again and Hotch, followed by the rest of the team, entered the establishment and found a round table that seated six in the middle of the room. The metal chairs had seats and backs upholstered in the same navy blue as the booths while the metal table was topped with the same wood like laminate.

"Don't look now," Jeff whispered, "but speak of the devil."

Manny turned his head to get a glimpse of the much talked about FBI agents. He was at first struck by the two beautiful women, one blonde in a grey suit with a yellow tank, and one brunette in a black suit with a red turtleneck. One of the men, in a black suit with a head of neatly trimmed dark hair, walked with the bearing of someone in charge although his demeanor looked more like that of a funeral director. An older man in a sports jacket and jeans seemed to emit an aura of relaxed elegance. Something about him was familiar to Manny but he couldn't quite place what it was. Then there was a bald black guy in a tee shirt and blue jeans with tattoos who looked more like a thug than an FBI agent. The last was a young guy with longish brown hair. Didn't the bureau have rules about that sort of thing? He wore cords, a jacket and a sweater vest carrying some kind of satchel over his shoulder. So, he thought, this was the great profiling team that was going to find a serial killer who, according to the cops he talked to, didn't even exist.

"The usual guys?" Manny asked and the men nodded. He walked to the counter, grabbed some menus and headed for his newest customers. "Coffee?" he said as he distributed the menus.

"Yes please," the man in the black suit said as the group turned over their mugs.

"Laura will be with you shortly," Manny told them and, after filling their cups and carrying on to fill the cup of a customer who'd just taken booth six, headed back to the counter.

The team opened the menus and began to peruse the selections. How many breakfasts, lunches and dinners had they ordered from restaurants in the years they'd been together JJ wondered? Too many to count. She smirked to herself. That probably wasn't true. Reid would likely know if she asked him.

A middle aged woman with blond hair pulled off her face and dark at the roots approached the table pulling a small pad from the pocket of her black skirt and a pen from behind her right ear. Smiling at the team, she asked, "What can I get for you folks today?"

The brunette woman was laughing at something the black man had said. "Something hot and spicy for hot stuff here," she said, slapping the man on the shoulder good naturedly.

"Manny has a great pork or chicken sandwich," she suggested. "The meat's been marinated in adobo sauce. Manny uses habanero peppers; they're quite hot," she added responding literally to the brunette's remark.

"That sounds like just what you need Morgan," the blonde interjected. "Habaneros are like the hottest peppers."

"Technically, that's not true," the younger man with the longish brown hair interjected. "The hottest chili pepper is the bhut jolokia from Assam, India. It registers at one million Scoville heat units unlike the habanero, that while still quite hot, normally registers only about 400,000."

Laura seemed taken aback by the comment but noticed that everyone else in the group seemed unfazed by the fact that this man knew so much about peppers. Maybe he did a lot of cooking in his off time. Maybe he wasn't very good at it because judging by his slim frame, she thought, he didn't eat much of it. She took their orders, retrieved their menus and headed for the kitchen.

The door opened again and two paramedics came into the café, talking as they entered. "…the way that Crosby snuck that puck behind Miller. Man I was pissed." Mike LeDuc told his partner.

"You mighta been pissed but I was worried that we were gonna be called out because somebody'd had a friggin' heart attack and we'd be stuck doin' CPR," Gary Stanwick replied. "At least we don't have to worry about it for four years."

"Mikey," Kenny called from his seat. "Get over it already."

"Hey, don't talk Jaworski. You caught that serial yet?"

Kenny simply shook his head.

Mike stopped by the cops' table and said in a rather poor impression of Tommy Lee Jones, "What I want from each and every one of you is a hard target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in the area." He then laughed and sat with his partner in the booth behind the three police officers.

"Maybe you shouldn't hurry." Mike said as he turned his head towards Kenny Jaworski. "It would mean less mangled bodies for us to try to save," he finished as Manny approached with the coffee pot.

Morgan made a move to stand up but was stopped by Rossi's hand on his arm and Hotch shaking his head.

The customer in booth six, who had a good view of the cops, the paramedics and the profilers, smirked, amused by the scene that was playing out in the restaurant. A playwright couldn't have written it better.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Curious eyes in the bullpen followed the BAU team as they strode purposefully back to the conference room with an obviously irate Morgan in the lead. "What the hell was that?" Morgan spat out angrily at Hotch and Rossi once the door to the conference room was closed. He slammed one of the swivel chairs with his fist sending it spinning and almost knocking it backwards to the floor. He realized the Charlottesville PD didn't like the fact that the team was here but he didn't appreciate being shut down like an errant child. After all, he thought, he had been the leader of this team until the Foyet matter had been brought to a close.

"Morgan, get control of yourself," Hotch said harshly. "What good would it have done to pick a fight with those cops and paramedics? You know it was much more informative for us to stay quiet and listen."

"We know the local LEOs don't want us here," Rossi added, "and we don't want to make it worse especially if we expect any cooperation from them when we reveal it might be one of their own."

"But beyond that," Hotch continued. "We learned something else. We learned that the paramedics hate the drunk drivers as much as the cops and, if you think about it, they also deal with the aftermath of drunk driving."

"It would follow that they'd have the medical knowledge about the antidepressants and anaphylactic shock that our unsub needed," Prentiss interjected.

"I thought both Mike and Kenny sounded like good candidates," JJ suggested.

"No, they're just frustrated that they can't do anything until it's too late," Reid replied. "They're left to pick up the pieces with no way to stop it."

"Well isn't that what our unsub is trying to do?" JJ said.

"Exactly, but it's not them."

"Why do you say that Reid?" Rossi asked.

"If you watched them at lunch you'd notice that they're both left handed. M.E. said our unsub is right handed." Reid took a seat at the table. "Anyway, it wouldn't be someone like them, would it?"

"Explain," Hotch said taking a chair across the table from Reid.

The others sat as well, waiting for Reid to continue. "A couple of the deaths were accidents, perhaps divine retribution in the unsub's mind. Two were drugged with something that could kill them, also holds with the unsub feeling these people had used alcohol, a drug, to injure or kill others. There also wasn't any personal contact in those deaths but the last two were violent attacks."

"You're right," Rossi agreed, "he's losing control."

"If he's that much out of control, his coworkers would have noticed something, and," Reid continued, "he wouldn't be one of those cops that talks out loud about drunk drivers. He doesn't want to call attention to himself in that way."

"Our unsub," Emily pointed out, "has been quietly seething. He's leaving these letters as a message to us so Reid's right, he wouldn't be talking about it."

"Let's get Garcia to check up on the paramedics as well," Hotch said, reaching for the phone."

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Kayleigh held a pair of black, boot cut jeans, with rhinestones in the pattern of flowers and leaves running up the leg, against herself as she looked in the mirror along the walls of the clothing store. She put them aside for the change room and flicked through the rack considering the matching jacket. "Hey Leigh," she heard from behind her and turned to find a pretty strawberry blond a couple of years her junior, hair pulled back in a French braid, smiling at her. "Out doing some shopping instead of studying?"

"Hi Marilyn," she nodded. "You know how it is. When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping."

"What's wrong?" Marilyn asked her friend.

"Ah, nothing," she waved her hand to dismiss the subject and concentrated again on the clothes. She looked up to see Marilyn staring at her; her look said she was not buying it. "Okay, I met this guy…" Kayleigh began.

"Oh, stop right there girlfriend," Marilyn took the clothes from Kayleigh's hands and returned them to the rack. "You can worry about that later. This calls for coffee and something totally fattening." She grabbed Kayleigh's arm. "I just love stories that begin with I met this guy."

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"Okay my fine furry friends," Garcia's voice came through the speakers. "I've looked into all the CPD officers and can find no one with a relative injured or killed by a drunk driver."

"What about their psych evals Garcia?" Rossi asked.

"There are only a couple that raised any flags," she replied. "Officer Jeremy Cord expressed feelings of helplessness at not having enough men on the street to prevent these crimes although he mentioned drunk driving, he didn't single it out."

"And the other," Hotch said.

"Officer Franco Tucci, apparently has trouble at home, three kids, wife's an alcoholic. I've just started on the EMTs."

"Thanks baby girl," Morgan said before the tech was gone.

"Okay," Hotch said, "let's see if we can involve officers Cord and Tucci in our investigation and discreetly see what we can find out about them."

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"So what did you tell the BAU to bring them here?" Marilyn asked over coffee and a glazed doughnut covered with colorful sprinkles.

"I can't get into it. All I can say is this really cute guy, Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, believed me when his partner didn't," Kayleigh paused for a moment, her fingers wrapped around her coffee mug, her own doughnut left untouched. "He asked me out for coffee and I was really excited until I found out he only did it to get information on me."

"I'm sure that's not tr…"

"He admitted it," Kayleigh interjected. "Apparently it's alright because his boss ordered him to do it. One of the girls on the team told me that he was going to ask me out anyway and he's this great guy, the godfather of her son, yada yada yada."

"Maybe she's right. Maybe you misjudged the guy," her friend suggested.

"Yeah," Kayleigh laughed with derision, "and maybe I'm just a sucker for tall dark and handsome with soulful brown eyes you could drown in, and these long fingers you wish he'd…"

"Oh man, that bad huh?" Marilyn nudged Kayleigh's hand. "Eat your doughnut and let's get back to that store. I prescribe some serious shopping to get over the doctor."

Grey eyes watched her talking with her friend. Perhaps the note had done the trick. But could she be trusted, the customer at the next table wondered? There was only one way to find out.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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With a couple of pairs of jeans, a jacket, two tanks and a shirt in her shopping bag Kayleigh and Marilyn left the clothing store. "Those jeans and that jacket looked great on you," Marilyn said. "For what it's worth, I think you should reconsider what that Agent Jareau said. The guy was only following orders and you don't just name anybody as your kid's godfather."

"I know, but I just don't know if I can trust him," Kayleigh replied as they left the mall for the parking lot.

"Are you ever sure about that with anyone?" Marilyn asked. "And after all, he did trust _you_ enough to look into whatever you told him and bring his team out here. Who knows, maybe you're wrong about him and….maybe you should have bought some sexy lingeré."

"Yeah, right, do you need a ride?" Kayleigh asked, changing the subject as they walked in the direction of her car.

"No, I'm going across the street to Starbucks," her friend said.

"You just had coffee," Kayleigh reminded her.

"I know, but Mitch Boyer asked me to meet him there before he starts his shift at the gas station."

"Oh well then," Kayleigh raised her eyebrows. "That calls for another cup." She waved at Marilyn and turned sharply to head for her car, bumping into someone coming from the opposite direction. "I'm so sor… Oh hi, it's nice to see you again."

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Hotch stared back at Captain Wes Phillips as they faced off in the captain's office. "Let me get this straight," Phillips said, "you think this serial killer, if there is one, and I'm still not totally convinced of that, is one of my officers."

"I think it's possible," Hotch stressed the word in his usual taciturn manner. "It's also possible it may be someone like an EMT. We'll have to find other ways to look into that but we think working with these officers is a viable plan. We know that they're frustrated at not being able to help until it's too late. We know cops talk. Angry cops talk loud. If we can work with them, maybe they'll give us an idea as to the general feeling on the force and who might have been just frustrated enough to have snapped." He paused for a moment, giving the captain time to think. "If it's one of your officers and you covered it up, can you imagine the backlash you'd get from this community?"

Captain Wes Phillips, a tall distinguished man in his fifties who still worked out like he was a thirty year old, suddenly resembled a balloon with the air let out of it as he sank into his high backed leather chair. "Okay," he relented, "you can have Cord and Tucci, but," he continued as Hotch turned for the door, "it doesn't mean I don't have faith in my officers. If I thought for one minute…"

"Understood Captain," Hotch said as he opened the door and left the office.

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"It was so nice of you to bring me home," Joyce Burgess said as Kayleigh pulled into the driveway of a neat white house with green trim.

"Think nothing of it. It was on my way anyway. My car was in the shop just the other day so I understand car trouble, believe me. It's a good thing triple A was able to get out so quickly and tow it."

"Yes, that was fortunate," the fortyish auburn haired woman smiled. "Would you like to come in for some coffee?"

"I just had coffee with my friend back at the mall," Kayleigh replied, "but thanks anyway."

"Iced tea then, I made a pitcher this morning," the woman's eyes pleaded with Kayleigh.

She really wanted to get back home and work on her paper for her Ethics in Law class.

"Okay, a glass of iced tea sounds really refreshing," Kayleigh relented as the pair got out of the car and walked up the stone walkway to the house.

"Make yourself comfortable," Joyce said. "I'll get the iced tea."

Kayleigh sat on the olive colored sofa with flared arms and soft pillow back cushions that was held up by block feet. She surveyed the room. Three narrow windows at the front of the house, directly behind the sofa where she sat, were covered with one long set of floor length drapes in a taupe fabric. The drapes were open at the moment allowing the afternoon sun to stream in on to the gleaming oak hardwood flooring. A matching love seat sat against a half wall of spindles at right angle to the sofa and faced a stone fireplace. The spindles led down a winding staircase to the basement. A television stood kitty corner to the fireplace. The sofa was flanked by end tables in black with glass insets while a matching coffee table stood in front of the love seat, the sunlight reflecting off the glass that was visible as the table seemed to be covered with old newspapers. "You have a lovely home," Kayleigh said.

"Thank you," Joyce called from the kitchen.

Kayleigh stood and picked up a framed picture on one of the end tables. It was a picture of Joyce with a blond haired man and two red haired freckled faced children around the ages of eight and ten. "Your family?" Kayleigh stated as Joyce returned with two glasses of iced tea. The ice cubes tinkled in the glasses as she moved.

A cloud seemed to suddenly take over the sunny room as Joyce's smile vanished. "Yes," she replied quietly, "or I should say they used to be." She set the glasses on the table.

"Oh Joyce," Kayleigh said, returning the picture to the table and coming towards her hostess, "it was insensitive of me to bring that up. You told me at the Tully's that you'd lost a son in a car accident."

"What do you mean, they used to be?" Kayleigh asked as she sat beside the woman on the love seat.

"When they told me in the hospital that my precious little baby was killed in the car accident, part of me died too. I got very depressed and eventually Dan couldn't take it anymore and divorced me. The court even gave him custody of Carla. He got a new job in Richmond and they moved. I hardly see Carla anymore. If it wasn't for Jacob and June I…" Joyce wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry; I invite you in and end up doing this."

"Don't worry about it Joyce," Kayleigh put her arm around the woman. "You remember when I was at Detective Tully's home for dinner; I told you that my mother was a quadriplegic due to a car accident with a drunk driver?" Joyce nodded. "The accident that took your son's life was due to a drunk driver too, wasn't it?"

Joyce nodded again, "How did you know?"

"I figured it was something like that. I could see the look on your face when I talked about my experience and also because, at the Tully's, like me, you refused any alcohol. After what happened to my mother, I never drink either."

"Excuse me," Joyce said rising from the love seat. "I need to get a tissue."

Kayleigh let her go, feeling the woman needed a moment to compose herself. She continued to look around the room. The mantle of the fireplace held what appeared to be a collection of bowls. On closer inspection Kayleigh saw they were actually mortars and pestles, all different kinds, some made of glass or ceramic, others of wood, stone or granite. There were different sizes and some of the mortars were even shaped like animals. She had picked up one of them when Joyce returned. "These are interesting," Kayleigh said, trying to divert the conversation in a more pleasant direction.

"I got one as a gift when I graduated as a pharmacist and then it somehow became a regular thing. I'd always get one at birthdays or for Christmas. I always tried to get people to stop but I think they got as much of a kick out of trying to find them as I did ge…" She stopped as the phone rang. "Excuse me again while I get that."

Kayleigh felt sorry for Joyce as she continued to peruse the collection. She had had an ordinary life until a drunk driver had ruined it all for her. They ruined a lot of lives she pondered as she picked up a large mortar and pestle from the back, almost dropping it when she realized how heavy it was. She lifted the pestle, man that's heavy, she thought, feeling the weight of solid granite. Suddenly her eyes grew large as she inspected the object in her hand. Joyce's life as she'd known it had been ruined by a drunk driver…pharmacist…dinner with Detective Tully and his wife all the time…could have told Joyce about her talking to the FBI… about the so called date with Spencer. What had Spencer said?"

_The blunt object, the ME said it seemed smaller than a bat. What about a baton?_

What about a pestle, she thought as she twirled the object in her hand and held it up to the sunlight? It was a blunt object, yet much heavier than a baton. It was made of granite, not wood. Joyce could easily have… Kayleigh grabbed her purse just as Joyce returned to the room. "It was really nice to see you again but I've really got to go."

She watched as Joyce put her hand into the pocket of her denim skirt and came out with a tazer which she pointed at Kayleigh, "You're not going anywhere."


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Jeremy Cord and Franco Tucci entered the conference room. Cord, a tall, muscular man in his early thirties, blue eyed with wavy dark hair capping off his model good looks, was laughing. "Tucci and Cord reporting for duty," he said to Hotch in a cavalier fashion. The unit chief scowled to himself. This was not going to be easy, he thought.

"Please," Hotch said, glaring at the officers, "join us." He pointed to the empty chairs around the table. "You remember from the profile what kind of unsub we're looking for."

"Yeah," Tucci, a slighter man in both height and build with the dark coloring of one of Italian descent, responded more quietly than his fellow officer, "Somebody who doesn't like drunk drivers. No disrespect intended," he looked at the team. "But isn't that the majority of the population?"

"The majority of the population doesn't hate them enough to kill them," Prentiss said.

"Hey," Cord nudged his partner, "maybe it was Murphy. You know how he hates check stop duty on New Year's Eve?"

"Enough," Hotch said sharply as he slammed a file down on the table causing Cord and Tucci to look up at him with a much more solemn demeanor. "Do you think this is some kind of joke? Six people in your community have been killed. Doesn't that bother you? When you swore to serve and protect, it wasn't just for those you deemed worthy. It was for everyone." He paused for a moment. "Now, you have been assigned by Captain Phillips to help this team find the person responsible for these killings and I expect your full cooperation. Do I make myself clear?"

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Kayleigh Beresford slowly opened her eyes. The room was spinning. Where was she? Everything around her was blurry and bright light reflecting off glass somewhere in the room made it even harder for her to see. She had to squint against it. She wanted to raise her hand up and shield her eyes from the light but both her hands and feet seemed immobilized somehow and the back of her head hurt. She was laying on a hard surface she realized. She squinted again and could, just barely, make out a form. Was someone sitting, watching her? She shook her head to try to dispel the cobwebs but that only succeeded in making her feel dizzier and her head began to throb. She tried to ignore it and focus on the figure watching her.

"I'm sorry," a voice said. "I didn't want to hurt you but you wouldn't stop struggling."

Kayleigh heard the voice and knew she recognized it but couldn't place it at the moment as her head and her heart seemed to be pounding out a bizarre cacophony in her ears. Struggling… Why would she have been struggling with this person? It didn't make sense she said to herself as she tried, if at will, to calm her throbbing head and racing heart.

A ringing sound seemed to bring her into reality, her cell, in her purse which lay on the floor only a few feet away from her. It might as well be a mile, she thought, as she had no way of getting to it, no way of telling the person on the other end that she needed help. "Aargh!" she groaned in frustration banging her bound feet on the floor. The vision was clearer now and she could see Joyce Burgess sitting on the love seat, while she herself lay on the floor in front of the sofa, the pestle that she was sure Joyce had used to knock her unconscious and likely to kill Mike Vale was sitting on the coffee table. "Why are you doing this?" She begged of the woman.

"You know why. You brought them here. No one was looking for me until you brought the FBI here," Joyce Burgess said in a tone that Kayleigh considered entirely too calm.

"How did you know that?" The young woman asked as she squirmed on the floor.

"Jacob told me when I was at dinner the other night. He wasn't too pleased that some college student with, I think he described it as an overblown ego, was sticking her nose into his work and bringing the FBI in."

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The team had separated for their assignments, interviewing and warning those who had been arrested in the last two years for drunk driving; finding out if any had been threatened in any way. Despite the public service announcements and punitive measures that had been taken in recent years, the list was still extensive. At least they had their target pool. They hoped they could get to the unsub's next victim before the unsub did. Reid closed his phone and grimaced. "What's up?" JJ asked.

"I was just calling Kayleigh to…" he looked at the floor, "apologize for last night. I've called twice and it keeps going to voice mail. I guess she's screening her calls and she obviously doesn't want to speak to me. So much for my attraction to women," he put the cell back in his pocket. "I better get back to that geographic profile and try and get a better fix on the unsub's comfort zone. Maybe then we could match a victim or victim's family to one of the drunk drivers and perhaps close in on our unsub that way." He turned back to his map of Charlottesville with numerous red pins already in place. If anyone could figure that out, JJ thought, he could, and it would help to keep his mind on something constructive.

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Connor Gould opened his apartment door to find two men flashing badges. "Agent Rossi, FBI, this is Officer Tucci of the Charlottesville PD," Rossi gestured to his partner. "May we have a word with you?" He was twenty-nine years old, recently married and worked as a personal trainer, Rossi knew from Garcia's investigation. He was handsome, blond hair, medium length with a few locks that kept falling into his eyes. Rossi would have bet his female clients loved him.

"The FBI…uh wow, did I do something?"

"Could we come in?" Rossi asked, "And we'll explain."

"Oh sure," the young man held the door open for them to enter. "Uh…please sit down," he motioned toward the living room.

It was a small, comfortable and fairly neat apartment, Rossi noted as they both sat on the sofa while Gould took the chair. "We're here regarding your drunk driving arrest a year ago," Rossi told him.

"My dr…I'm sorry, I don't understand. I had my license suspended; I paid my fine and I did my community service. It was a one time thing," he rambled on reminding Rossi of Reid. "We'd had a party, me and my wife, well she was my girlfriend back then. Anyway after everyone left we had an argument; she thought one of the women was paying too much attention to me. I just ended up storming out. I know I shouldn't have but I wasn't thinking straight at that moment."

"We're not here about that. We're here about the recent deaths in the city," Rossi told him.

"Oh the guy being stabbed and the one who was mugged; I read about them in the paper." He paused for a moment. "You don't think that I…?"

"No," Rossi reassured him. "We don't think that at all. It appears the targets of this killer are people who have had their names on the police blotter in the local paper for drunk driving arrests. Have you received any threats recently Mr. Gould?"

The man's eyes grew wide. "No," he said, "nothing. Do you think he's going to come after me?"

"We have no way of knowing but we're stressing that you be hypervigilant just in case."

The man nodded, seemingly lost for words, then finally, "Okay."

"Thanks for your time Mr. Gould." Rossi and Tucci stood and left the apartment.

"It must be hard to hear something like that," Tucci said at last as they reached the SUV.

"Yeah, I guess so," Rossi agreed.

"That's why I always try to prevent it," the officer said. "I park a lot at the bars with my radar, like I'm looking for speeders, but I'm not. I'm looking for people stumbling to their cars and I try to get them before they get in, call them a cab, you know…make sure the roads are a little safer. That's why I always carry these," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. "They're for my wife's car. She's an alcoholic and I don't want her to have an accident and hurt herself or someone else. So if she's going to go get liquor or go to a bar then she has to call a cab." He looked down at the keys, almost caressing them tenderly. "I can't trust her right now but I love her. That's more important, right?"

He'd been married and divorced three times, Rossi thought, what did he know about what was right in a marriage? "Right," the agent agreed as he started the vehicle.

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The team and the two officers filed into the conference room sporadically until all eight members were present. "Okay, what did we find out?" Hotch asked.

"No one that we could find is getting any kind of threats from the unsub," Morgan began and the others nodded in agreement.

"So, we're no further ahead than we were before," Emily concluded.

"How's the geographic profile coming?" Rossi asked Reid who still stood by the map.

"Uh…good, I've managed to narrow down the unsub's comfort zone by plotting out the locations of the six deaths," Reid replied.

"And?" Hotch asked.

"The comfort zone seems to center near the University of Virginia."


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Cheryl, happy birthday to y…" Mavis Kinley stopped singing suddenly, the smile seeming to drain from her face, and stared straight ahead. Her coworkers seemed oblivious to her distraction as their lab assistant Cheryl Winger attempted, with much encouragement, to blow out the thirty candles on her cake. Mavis no longer heard the laughter of her friends, the soft background music or the hum of the other diners. Her eyes were on the bartender. She stood and walked towards the bar unnoticed by the other celebrants. "Excuse me," she said to the bartender who was in the midst of preparing a drink. "May I look at that?" She pointed to the implement he'd just used to muddle some ingredients for a mojito. The man looked confused at the question but handed the tool to her. Rick wasn't in the habit of saying no to a beautiful woman. Mavis turned it over and over in her hands. It was a blunt object, much like a bat, only smaller. This one couldn't be more than about eight and a half inches long. "Where would someone get one of these?" She asked the man in black pants with a white shirt and red vest accented with a black bow tie.

"You can get them at any bar supply store or you can buy them on the net," he told her.

"Do they come in anything but wood?" She asked, remembering there had been no wood fragments in the wound and trying to judge whether it was heavy enough to do the job.

"Yes, they also come in stainless steel and plastic?" The barman replied.

Mavis handed the muddler back to him, "Thank you, thank you very much." She headed back to the table. "Sorry gang, I've got to go."

There was a collective groan. "Don't tell me it's work," Doreen Schneider from trace exclaimed.

"Yes, it is, but not in the way you think." She grabbed her jacket, waved at her friends and headed for the door. She had to call Dr. Reid.

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The team sat around a table in Double Happiness, a popular Chinese restaurant in the area according to the desk sergeant. "I don't think Tucci has anything to do with it," Rossi said as he popped a piece of mu shu pork from his chopsticks into his mouth and chewed contentedly.

"Why's that?" Hotch asked after swallowing a mouthful of chicken fried rice.

"Tucci's wife is an alcoholic. He loves her. He thinks of every drunk driver as her. He wants to prevent it before it happens, not kill the drivers afterward."

"What about Cord?" Morgan asked.

"No, I don't think he's our guy either," Emily replied. "He wouldn't stop flirting with me when we were out doing interviews. I think any frustration he feels about being unable to prevent drunk driving is all for show. He was bragging that he had the most DUI arrests on the force." She laughed as she exhaled. "He's an alpha male wannabe. That's why he works out in the gym and has that swagger about him. The only frustrating thing he feels about drunk drivers is that they make more paperwork for him at the end of the shift."

Reid picked up his egg roll and bit into it. It was his favorite thing in Chinese food; well not the most tasteful, he admitted to himself, but the easiest for him to eat without looking awkward. "Still not into chopsticks pretty boy?" Morgan smiled.

"So that leaves us nowhere," Hotch said as he took a sip of his club soda.

"Maybe the interviews and JJ's press conference will alert the victim pool so they're hypervigilant enough to possibly save their lives," Morgan said. "Reid, I know you don't want to hear this man but with the comfort zone being around the university," he put up his hand to stall Reid from speaking, "I'm just saying maybe we should take another look at Kayleigh Beresford."

"I still don't think it's her. I stand by my original profile, but I can't deny what the geographic profile tells me either. Good luck with that though. I've been trying to call her all afternoon and no answer." He shrugged his shoulders. "I thought she was just screening her calls and she didn't want to talk to me."

"I'm sure that's not true Reid," Emily interjected.

"Look, I know what it's like to be made to look like a fool. It's been done to me enough in my life; my skin just crawls at the thought of doing that to someone else so I totally understand why she wouldn't take my calls. JJ tried her too though and she didn't answer her either."

"Do you think she could be in the wind?" Rossi asked just as Reid's cell rang.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked confused when he saw the call display, "Dr. Reid," he said. His teammates looked back and forth between one another. Reid rarely used his title when answering his cell.

"_Dr. Reid, Mavis Kinley, I noticed something tonight when I was out at a celebration."_

"You noticed something?"

"_I was watching the bartender and something hit me…"_

Reid listened, "That's very interesting Dr. Kinley, thank you for calling me." He closed the phone. "The M.E. thinks perhaps the blunt object used to kill Mike Vale might be a drink muddler."

The team looked thoughtful for a moment until JJ spoke. "You mean our unsub might be a bartender?"

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Chris Hanes stumbled through the grove of trees towards his dorm. At least he thought it was in the direction of his dorm, with all the alcohol he'd consumed at the frat house, he wasn't sure. Drinking his age in shots, his last test before becoming a member of the prestigious fraternity, had been easy until near the end, but he had done it and was now a member. He stopped as his world spun. He thought he heard a noise near the tree, "Whazzat? Whozzere?" He turned around and almost fell as a wave of dizziness came over him, only staying upright by reaching over to touch a tree. It was probably one of his frat brothers. Frat brothers, he liked the sound of that. He stood in the darkness. Which way was he going anyway? Even the crisp breeze wasn't helping to sober him up. He heard it again, or thought he did. He couldn't turn his head or he'd fall down. It must be this way he decided but his blurry eyes could barely make out anything. It couldn't be much further he thought just before he felt a sharp pain in his side and hit the ground. He was sure he heard footsteps on the gravel path just before blackness overtook him.

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"Maybe it makes sense," Emily said. "Bartenders probably allow I don't know how many people out onto the road when they shouldn't. Maybe one was feeling guilty about it and decided to take matters into his own hands."

"We'll get Garcia to look up the bartenders in the area and see if one of them possibly had a stressor a couple of years back," Hotch said.

"Maybe we should also get her to look into who in the Charlottesville area purchased one of those muddlers," Rossi suggested.

"Good idea Dave, we'll get her on that first thing in the morning," Hotch replied. "As he gestured to the waitress for the check, his cell rang. "Hotchner…um hmm, where? We'll be right there." He turned to the team. "We may have another body."

"Where?" Morgan asked.

"University of Virginia campus."


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to everybody who continues to support the story and send in those reviews. My internet provider has not been reliable lately so I'm posting this early to make sure you get today's chapter. Enjoy!

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Kayleigh's bound legs pushed as forcefully as they could against the door of the closet, trying to kick it open. She had tried to stand up but there was not enough space to maneuver in her small dark prison that smelled of lemon polish and disinfectant. There was no knob on the inside of the closet to turn anyway, just the flat side of a dummy knob, even if she could manage to get her hands to the right spot she didn't think she'd be able to open it. The house had been eerily silent since Joyce had slammed out of the place, it seemed like hours ago. It probably was, she thought. There was no light under the door now, so the sun, that had so brightened the room earlier, had set. Should she be relieved that her captor hadn't returned yet? Who knew what Joyce planned to do with her then? She was obviously very unstable. Suddenly her body stiffened and her heart began to race at the sound of the key turning in the lock.

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Mavis Kinley looked up from the body of a young man she'd been examining as the BAU team approached a small grove of trees on the University of Virginia campus. CSI techs had put some spotlights up for better vision while uniformed CPD officers tried to keep curious onlookers behind the yellow tape wrapped around the trees. Jacob Tully nodded at them as they ducked under the tape. Hotch, Rossi Prentiss and JJ stopped by the detective while Reid and Morgan headed over to the M.E. A young man, who looked no more than nineteen, 5'9" and 130lbs, Reid guessed, lay face up on the ground. His dead blue eyes seemed to be gazing at the moon. Longish dark blond hair was splayed out on the ground beneath him. There was no evidence on his body or in the area of any kind of attack, struggle or injury, the young profiler noted as he began to pull on some latex gloves. "Hello Dr. Reid," the M.E. nodded in his direction. "Nice to see you again, sorry about the circumstances."

"What have you got here?" Reid asked, crouching down next to the body, the distinct odor of alcohol wafting through the night air.

"According to Detective Tully, some of the guys from the fraternity said he had been drinking earlier, part of his initiation I take it, though, of course, they won't right out admit it. But they swore when he left he was, 'drunk but okay'," she made quotation marks with her blue gloved fingers. "Notice the vomit around his mouth. I believe he choked on it. Alcohol depresses the nerves that control involuntary actions such as breathing and the gag reflex." She put her fingers under his chin and her thumb in his mouth to pull his jaw downward allowing Reid a view of the blood inside the oral cavity. "He bit his tongue which means he likely seized before he died. He hasn't been dead long, if you go by the word of the frat boys." Her expression seemed to say that that may be imprudent. "The absence of livor mortis does support that though," she carried on, "yet his body's hypothermic, even taking into account the coolness of the evening. Then there's the blue tint of his skin…"

"Alcohol poisoning," Reid nodded. "Yeah, .33 percent of binge drinking results in alcohol poisoning, fifty thousand cases a year with over fifty-one percent between the ages of eighteen and twenty, not all being fatal of course."

"Uh…" Mavis looked a bit taken aback, "exactly."

"Okay, so Doc," Morgan bent over behind Reid. "This guy drank too much. Maybe part of a hazing ritual, I get that. But why do you think this case is connected to ours?"

"Well," she lifted the bottom of his T shirt, "there're tazer markings just like in the last two victims and…" she rolled the body partly over to reveal the white spray paint on the ground, still wet enough that it had seeped onto Chris Hanes' T shirt and the top of his jeans; the Greek letter omega.

"To say we need the results ASAP would be an understatement," Reid told the coroner.

"I'm on it," she replied as she motioned for her assistants to help her get the body onto a gurney for transport to the morgue.

"Tell us what you know detective?" Hotch asked.

"Kid was headed back to his dorm from the Omega Psi fraternity house. His frat brothers said he was drunk but otherwise okay. He was found here by a couple walking back to her dorm a short while ago. We thought he'd just passed out and accidentally choked but when the M.E. found the tazer marks and the 'O' under his body I knew I had to call you guys."

"Emily, talk to the couple that found him, Rossi, the frat boys. JJ, check with Garcia and see if he was on our list of possible victims." The three agents turned away to take care of their tasks while Hotch strode over to where Reid and Morgan were with the M.E.

"Dr. Kinley thinks it's alcohol poisoning. She says she'll know more after the PM," Reid informed his unit chief.

"How do you kill someone with alcohol poisoning?" Hotch wondered out loud. "He was already quite drunk as I understand it. How could someone stop him in a grove of trees and force him to drink more alcohol?"

"Depends on who was forcing him," Morgan said. "If it was a little honey that baited him with something more than alcohol…"

"Then why tazer him?" Hotch pondered.

"Maybe the unsub thought the guy'd had enough on top of what he'd already had," Reid suggested. "The body can metabolize one drink an hour; it's when you drink a lot in a short period of time that alcohol poisoning occurs. It probably wouldn't have taken much on top of what he'd had to do serious damage. Then the victim was tazered to knock him out and let nature take its course."

JJ and Emily approached. "The couple just found the body but they didn't see anybody near him," Emily reported.

"He was on our list but we weren't able to get in touch with him. Who knows if he saw the press conference," JJ added.

Rossi returned to the group just as JJ and Emily were finishing relaying their information to the others. "Couldn't get anything new from the frat boys, but the news did succeed in sobering them up pretty quickly."

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Kayleigh could hear the television turn on in the living room and the banging on her prison door received no response other than to turn up the volume on the television. She stopped kicking the door and tried to hear what the reporter was saying. There had been a death on the campus of UVA that authorities thought may be linked to the string of deaths in Charlottesville that the FBI was looking into. UVA campus… was it someone she knew, she wondered? Had Joyce killed a friend just to get back at her for getting the FBI involved? She stopped her musing and listened again as the reporter gave the tip line number. The television was suddenly shut off or muted, she didn't know which, and who really cared she thought. There was silence for a moment and then she heard Joyce talking.

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The team had added Chris Hanes' picture and the information they'd gotten at the scene to the other six that occupied the white board. "Do we still think it could be a bartender?" Morgan asked. "If we're going on the premise that he feels guilty for letting patrons drive after giving them too many drinks, why would he give Chris Hanes more?"

"As a convenient way of killing him," Prentiss remarked. "Of course people other than bartenders use things like those muddlers. Chefs use them to crush herbs and spices. They do it all the time on The Food Network."

"Tee hee hee…" Morgan spun his pencil around. "Is that how you spend your Saturday nights Prentiss, The Food Network? You gotta get a life girl."

"For your information, I don't spend all my Saturday nights watching…" She paused for a few moments. "Okay, sometimes…I'm just saying it doesn't have to be a bartender."

"Focus please," Hotch said sternly.

"I doubt our unsub has a job at all." Rossi, who'd remained quiet, finally spoke up. "It wouldn't allow the time needed to choose, research and surveil the victims."

"Dave's right," Hotch agreed. "This person's not stable enough to hold down a job."

"Would either bartenders or chefs have the medical knowledge required for some of these killings?" Reid asked as one of the officers walked up to the door from the bullpen.

"Excuse me," Officer Steve Kent knocked on the door jamb. "We just received a call on the tip line. I think you're gonna want to hear this."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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The team stood around the machine while Officer Kent pushed the button; a high pitched female voice came through the speaker. "Uh… hello, that…that man on the news," she took a deep breath, "the one that died on campus, there…there was a woman with him, white, long blond hair." The phone clicked.

"Morgan," Hotch said, "let's get Garcia to see if she can find out where that call came from." He turned to Officer Kent, "Thank you."

Morgan nodded and pulled out his phone as the team returned to the conference room, "Hey Mama…"

"Well," Prentiss said, "that description doesn't sound anything like Kayleigh."

"No, you're right, but I'd bet that woman was lying," Rossi replied. "Her speech pattern was classic for someone being deceptive."

"Increasing pitch of the voice, stammering, avoiding the use of pronouns like 'I saw,'" Reid listed as they walked back into the conference room.

"Disposable cell," Morgan said as he rejoined the group.

"Why would a tipster phone from a disposable cell?" JJ asked.

"It's most likely that she wanted us to know but, on the other hand, didn't want to get involved," Hotch said.

"Or maybe it wasn't a tipster," Rossi replied. "Maybe it was the unsub."

"And you think maybe it's Kayleigh?" Morgan interjected.

"Didn't sound like her," Reid and JJ said together.

"Anyone can disguise their voice and who's been involved in this from the get go?" Rossi looked around at them all.

"But that doesn't make any sense," Reid said. "Mission based killers don't try to bring attention to themselves. They don't want to be caught. They don't want anyone to stop their mission."

"Maybe she felt her message wasn't getting out." Hotch suggested. "No one was connecting the murders, understanding the reason why she was doing this."

"And now that she thinks we may be on to her, she kills another victim and tries to throw us off by diverting our attention to someone else," Morgan added

"You're saying 'she' now so you really must believe it's her." Reid nodded but his voice seemed incredulous that they would believe such a thing.

"You know it's happened before Reid," Morgan responded. "Look at Tobias Hankel."

Reid glared at his teammate at the mention of the name. Would the man forever be thrown back in his face. "Look," he said, "you had me profile her and I didn't think she fit the profile. I stand by that."

"We're all wrong once in a while Reid, even you," Prentiss said. "Look at that vampirism case in LA for example."

"I wasn't wrong. I didn't think it was a woman because that condition in a female is exceedingly rare. If you look at the rest of my profile it was dead on." Reid felt his voice rising at what suddenly appeared to be the necessity to defend his actions to his teammates.

"Okay," Hotch said in his usual stern manner. "Let's move on, this is getting us nowhere. JJ, have Garcia go over Miss Beresford's credit card purchases. See if she can find anything that will be useful to us. Rossi, you and Prentiss pay the young lady a visit. See what she has to say and if she has an alibi for tonight's murder. Reid, check with the M.E. and see if she's found anything. Morgan and I will start going over the list of possible victims and concentrate on those within her comfort zone. Perhaps we can find a pattern on where she might strike next." The team members parted to carry out their individual assignments.

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Rossi and Prentiss were standing in the carpeted hallway outside Kayleigh's apartment door. They had rung the doorbell twice with no response. They waited, it was late at night and she might be sleeping. They heard the elevator doors down the hall open and a woman with a basketful of laundry exited and came down the hallway toward them. She was about thirty, Rossi thought, clad in sweat pants and a tee shirt, a few strands of her long brown hair coming loose from the elastic that held it back off her face. "She's not home," she said as she passed them.

"Would you know where she might be?" Rossi asked.

Kayleigh's neighbor looked them up and down. "Who's asking?"

"Agents Rossi and Prentiss, FBI," Prentiss said as they pulled their shields out and displayed them for the woman.

"Hmm… and just when you think nothing ever happens around here," the woman hiked her laundry basket onto her hip. "I haven't seen her all day. Her car was in its place this morning when I left for work but when I got home it wasn't there and still isn't. She's usually home from the library by now so I don't know where she could be. Maybe she got lucky again. She was with a real cute one the other night, if you like 'em long and lanky that is," she paused and sighed, "and I do."

"Okay, well thank you for your time," Rossi said and smirked at the neighbor's description of Reid as the pair headed toward the elevator while Kayleigh's neighbor raised her eyebrows and headed for her own apartment. Wait until Michelle heard about this.

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"Go ahead Garcia," JJ said as she, Morgan and Hotch sat around the table.

"_Okay, my fine furry friends, you asked for it and here it is."_ Garcia's voice came through the speaker. _"Kayleigh Beresford put gas in her car this morning. Nothing until this afternoon when she made some purchases at one of the boutiques in the mall."_

"What did she buy Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"_Some jeans, shirts, a jacket, some women's personal apparel, that kind of thing; bill came to $968.37."_

"I wish I could drop that much on one shopping trip," JJ responded.

"Hotch," Morgan's eyes widened. "Maybe she didn't plan on going home again and was getting some clothes to tide her over. Maybe she's in the wind."

"Anything else Garcia," Hotch looked concerned. If she was their killer what was stopping her from going somewhere else and starting all over again. Perhaps now that her message was out and she'd scared the hell out of most of the drunk drivers in Charlottesville, she could just take off. She had the finances.

"_She took out a large cash advance and there was a purchase at a convenience store late_ _this afternoon,"_ the tech replied.

"What did she buy baby girl?"

"_A disposable cell."_

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Reid once again looked down at the body of Chris Hanes, this time not on the dark ground lit up by the moon and spotlights but in the artificially bright world of the morgue. There was no soft grass under him now, but the cold, hard stainless steel of the autopsy slab. He stood on one side of the body, Mavis Kinley on the other. All bodies on the autopsy table looked the same, Reid thought to himself. Of course he knew that wasn't true. Some had stab wounds, gunshot holes or ligature marks while others had bruises, defensive wounds, track marks, and even tattoos or scars. Some had no markings at all to indicate what had caused their demise. But they all had the same characteristic about them. They were cleaned with sterile precision, photographed, hair combed for trace evidence and nails scraped; bits and pieces of them sent to the lab for microscopic examination; one last assault on their body to satisfy society's need to catch a killer. The person on the slab no longer cared.

Reid gave his attention to Mavis Kinley. "It was alcohol poisoning as we suspected but I think I know how it was administered."

Reid raised his eyebrows, "What did you find?"

"I found some blood and irritation of the nasal and esophageal mucosa," she told him.

"And that tells you what exactly?"

"Once he'd been disabled by the tazer, I'm pretty sure the killer placed a tube down his nose and into his stomach and then could just pour in the alcohol, a clever and quick way to forcibly get alcohol into someone."

"Are you sure the esophagus wasn't just irritated by the vomiting?" Reid played devil's advocate.

"There was some irritation from that most definitely but this was a different kind of irritation, not chemical in nature, and that wouldn't account for the damage to the mucosa of the nose," Mavis explained.

"So who would be able to do that, insert one of those tubes?" Reid asked.

"Any doctor or nurse; it's not a difficult procedure."

"A doctor or nurse would definitely fit with the medical knowledge we've seen in some of these murders," Reid replied. "Thank you Dr. Kinley," he turned to leave the morgue. A doctor or a nurse…maybe one of them was tired of seeing victims of drunk drivers in the hospital or ER he thought. As he left the building and the cool night air hit him, Kayleigh's words drifted back to him as if carried by the breeze itself…_mother passed away a couple of years ago…quadriplegic from a car accident eight years ago…nursed her until she passed…understand why the killer's doing this…_


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Kayleigh heard footsteps just before the closet door swung open and she was, once again, face to face with Joyce Burgess. The light wasn't bright but it made her squint momentarily. When her eyes became accustomed to the light she noticed that Joyce was wearing the jeans and jacket she had purchased this afternoon. The woman grabbed her under the arms and dragged her across the floor to the living room where she was deposited in front of the couch. Joyce's appearance was deceptive, Kayleigh thought. She looked frail but actually she was quite strong. Kayleigh's eyes glared at her captor as she tried to speak underneath the silver duct tape that covered her mouth, the sounds, however, only resembled weak moans.

"Oh be quiet. I'll take it off in time. None of this would have been necessary if you'd just minded your own business. Nobody was putting these deaths together until you butted your nose in and got the FBI involved." Joyce spat at her as she picked up the phone and hit speed dial.

Kayleigh looked around the room; it looked different somehow in the artificial light of the table lamps than it had in the sunlight.

"Hi June, what's up?" Joyce said into the phone.

"_Did you see the news?"_

"Of course I saw it, another murder, this time at the university. I'll certainly be glad when they catch this guy," Joyce told her stepsister.

"_It might not even be a guy. Jacob says they think that maybe it's Kayleigh Beresford."_

"Who?" Joyce sounded confused.

"_You remember,"_ June said, _"that college student that was riding along with Jacob. He thought she was a pain in the ass but I insisted he bring her home for dinner that night. I told you that that young profiler was taking her on this mock date to see what he could find out about her."_

"Of course, I remember now, sometimes my mind goes blank, I swear, but they don't really think…" Joyce left the thought unfinished.

"_The evidence is apparently pointing that way. It gives me the creeps to think that a serial killer was actually sitting at my dining room table, and she seemed so nice."_

"You just never know I guess. Well keep me posted, this is so interesting. Take care sis, bye for now." Joyce pushed the button to end the call, turned her attention to Kayleigh and smiled.

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Reid walked into the conference room to find Rossi and Prentiss had also just returned. "What did she say?" he asked anxiously as he pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"She wasn't there," Rossi said.

"Neighbor said," Prentiss continued, "that she's always home by now." She thought it best to leave out the part about the cutie from the other night.

"That's not all," Hotch added. He informed Reid, Rossi and Prentiss about Garcia's findings related to Kayleigh's credit card purchases.

Reid sank into his chair knowing this did not look good. "Maybe it was stolen," he suggested hopefully.

"Didn't report it," JJ said. "I checked. Security footage Garcia could get shows her at the mall and on the cameras at the convenience store she appears to be wearing some of the clothes she bought at the mall."

"You actually saw her?" Reid sounded incredulous at this possibility.

"Didn't get a good look at her face, she was wearing a beret but then she would if she was on the run and trying to disguise her appearance wouldn't she?" JJ replied.

"What did the M.E. say?" Morgan asked.

Reid sighed loudly, "She said it was alcohol poisoning and she's pretty sure it was administered via a nasogastric tube. She said any doctor or nurse could do it. A doctor or nurse would account for the medical knowledge required in this case and maybe one of them snapped after seeing too many victims of drunk driving cross their paths," Reid said in hopes that they would reconsider Kayleigh. Why did he want to be right so badly, he asked himself? Was it pride? Was it the fact that he was indeed being controlled by his traitorous hormones, by his attraction to this woman? Was he such a pitiful nerd that he would believe anything that any woman who gave him the slightest interest had to say? That's what they're all thinking, he thought. They just don't want to say it, at least not until after, then Morgan would be on him for sure. Or was it because if he was wrong, another innocent victim had just lost his life?

"Kayleigh nursed her mother for a few years. You'd think she would have gained some knowledge in that time, even as a lay person," JJ said.

Hotch clicked the button on the phone, "This is genie," Garcia said coyly, "what wish may I grant for you tonight?"

"Garcia, look into Kayleigh's mother's medical records. If you can, find out if she'd ever had a nasogastric tube."

"On it sir," the phone clicked loudly in the team's ears.

"JJ, get CPD to put a BOLO out on Kayleigh Beresford's car."

JJ nodded and left the room to do as Hotch ordered.

The phone in the room rang as soon as JJ had exited, "Hotchner," Hotch said as he pushed the button.

"_Agent Hotchner, this is Rick Merrick in the crime lab. I've been processing a dark brown hair found on the latest victim. I was told to inform you right away of any results. I've isolated the DNA and I ran it through CODIS, no hits."_

There was a collective grimace on the faces around the table. The tipster had mentioned a blond. "Merrick," Rossi said. "Agent Rossi, I'd like you to compare it to some hair Dr. Reid collected the other night. I'll have one of the officers run it over to you."

"_Will do,"_ Merrick responded. _"I'll get back to you with the results."_

Reid kept staring at the file in front of him, not really seeing it but knowing the eyes of the team were all on him.

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Joyce roughly ripped the tape off Kayleigh's mouth, "Aahh," Kayleigh yelled at the pain.

"Maybe that'll teach you to keep your mouth shut." Joyce said as Kayleigh's green eyes blazed at her. She paused for a moment, then sighed. "None of this had to happen. I have nothing against you. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought you, of all people, would understand what I'm doing."

"I did understand, or I thought I did," Kayleigh snapped back. "But these people, they all have families. How do you think those families feel having a member of their family taken…?"

"I know how it feels you little bitch," Joyce cut her off. "I lost everything. I lost my family so why shouldn't someone else suffer like I did?"

Kayleigh squirmed until she was in a sitting position with her back against the couch. She felt it gave Joyce less power over her even if it wasn't really true. "Like I said, at first I thought I understood but after I thought about it stopping drunk driving is an effort to prevent pain and suffering, not a means to cause it." The room was quiet for a moment. "They'll find you, you know. They're the best, and no matter how many ways you try to fool them, they'll find you."

"Did Dr. Reid convince you of that on your little 'date'?" She threw her head back and laughed. "Honey, they're not even looking for me." Her grey eyes suddenly turned cold. "They're looking for you."

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"Hotchner," Hotch said into the phone on the table.

"_It's Merrick again in the crime lab. I checked the hair found on the body against the hair you sent. They're a match."_

Hotch's severe look became even more severe if that was possible and everyone at the table looked both excited and deflated at the same time. "Thank you Merrick."

Reid was still looking down at the file and suddenly looked up when Hotch ended the phone call. The look on his face was one the team was used to seeing. It told them he'd thought of something but the words from his mouth surprised everyone. "We need a search warrant for Kayleigh's apartment."


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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It was 10:15 am and the sun reflected brightly off the windshields as the team was making its way to Kayleigh's apartment, the ink not yet dry on the search warrant Judge Leroy Cummings had just signed, verifying that there was indeed probable cause to search the residence of one Kayleigh Beresford for a knife, a muddler, a tazer, the antidepressant medication Nardil, used in the death of Gail Nevin, and, since Kayleigh's mother had had one for a short time after her accident, any equipment necessary to insert a nasogastric tube.

"Reid," Morgan said as he steered one of the SUVs toward their destination. "Are you really okay with this?"

"Yeah Morgan, why wouldn't I be?" Reid looked out the passenger side window. "We had enough probable cause to convince Judge Cummings."

"Come on Reid," Morgan turned his head momentarily to look at his teammate, wishing Reid's sunglasses didn't obliterate his eyes. "You've been this woman's staunchest defender yet you want us to search her place?"

"Well, if we don't find anything, it'll be good, right," was all he would say.

Rossi, Hotch, JJ and Prentiss were in the lead vehicle that turned onto Ivy Road. "Dave were you surprised when Reid suggested the search warrant?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, but I have a feeling he's up to something."

"What do you mean up to something?" Emily asked from the back seat, unable to hide the note of suspicion in her voice.

"He made a good case for probable cause because of the evidence we have which, really, except for the hair, is circumstantial at best. But I have a feeling it's just a means to an end for him," Rossi replied.

"A means to an end," JJ shook her head, confused.

Rossi sighed. "Look, I know that you all picture Reid as the baby brother who needs protecting in this little family you've created and, to a point, he plays along but he can be devious and manipulative when it suits his purpose. I'm sure nobody has forgotten West Bune and Owen Savage. Somehow, I think we've all just played into his hands. Don't forget, he's a master at games and strategy."

"You don't think he plans to destroy evidence or something, do you?" JJ asked.

"No," Rossi assured her. "I think he just has his reasons. He wants something in that apartment and the search warrant is simply a legal way to get him in."

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The team entered the building and were met by the super, Gil Fielding. JJ had called ahead and informed him that they would be executing a search of apartment 311 pursuant to a search warrant issued by Judge Cummings. If Miss Beresford was not there, he was to be there to let them in.

"I've never seen anything like this in all the time I've been a super!" The balding man in his fifties with the beginnings of a beer belly exclaimed.

"We're sorry to have to do this," Hotch said as the seven people squeezed into the elevator and Reid pushed the button for the third floor.

They walked down the hallway and stopped in front of apartment 311 and Hotch knocked. There was no answer so he knocked a second time. "Miss Beresford, federal agents, we have a warrant to search this apartment." The door to 311 remained closed but the team could hear other doors crack open just enough for one curious eye in those apartments to take in the activity down the hall. Hotch nodded at Gil Fielding who plucked one key from a mass of keys on a ring in his hand and opened the door.

"Thank you Mr. Fielding," Hotch said, effectively dismissing the man. "We'll take it from here. We'll let you know when we're done."

Six people entered Kayleigh's living space. "Nice apartment," Emily said.

"Nicer than anything I had in college," JJ agreed.

"Let's split up," Hotch ordered. "JJ, you and Prentiss take the bedroom. If we're wrong, she'll probably feel better knowing it was two women going through those personal things. Rossi and I will check in here…"

"I'll take the computer room," Reid broke in.

Hotch stole the briefest glance at Rossi who nodded almost imperceptibly. "I guess that leaves me with the bathroom," Morgan said as they separated for their individual duties.

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Emily opened Kayleigh's closet. "Nice boots," she shuffled through the clothes hanging on the rack. "This woman has good taste in clothes."

"Yeah, the things in her drawers are pretty classy too," JJ agreed, "though nothing that's indicated in the warrant. I always hate this, going through someone's life like their total existence is the sum of their possessions. Uh oh," she said as she opened the drawer in the nightstand.

"What," Prentiss turned from the closet, "did you find something?"

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Morgan went through all the bottles in the medicine cabinet. The Tylenol bottle did appear to contain Tylenol and the Midol, well it was stamped right on the pill so he guessed it was the genuine article that apparently relieved cramps, backache and bloating. No wonder women were bitchy. Where would she hide something in the bathroom? He removed the lid of the toilet tank, nothing there. He opened the vanity and eyed a box on the shelf. He really was not thinking of going through a box of tampons looking for evidence was he? Stranger things had happened he thought as he opened the box.

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Hotch and Rossi had found nothing in the kitchen and living room. There were knives to be sure but the woman who kept this house didn't seem like the type to use a knife to commit a murder and then bring it back to use in the kitchen. The china cabinet, hall closet and the entertainment center had all left them empty handed.

"Found something in the bedroom," JJ said as she and Prentiss came into the living room.

"W…what…you found something?" Reid said as he raced from the computer room. His eyes looked wide enough to pop from their sockets. Clearly, actually finding something had never entered his mind.

"Oh, it's not evidence of any kind and completely out of the scope of the warrant," Prentiss replied. "Apparently, Kayleigh keeps a journal."

"The question is," JJ asked, "should we read it?"

"N…no, I don't think so. Those are her private thoughts and even if there was something in there, we wouldn't be able to use it in court," Reid stressed.

"So we can't use anything we read here for evidentiary purposes," Rossi interjected. "We can still find out the way she thinks, who she might turn to if she's in trouble, where she might go. I say we read it."

The team looked at Hotch who thought for a moment and then sternly nodded his head, "Read it."

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Kayleigh begrudgingly swallowed some orange juice from a straw in a glass held by Joyce. She'd wanted to spit it in the woman's face but she'd been so thirsty that she couldn't allow herself that luxury. "What are you going to do with me?" she asked Joyce. "You can't keep me here forever."

"No, that's true. This is such a dilemma since I'm really not an evil person. I only wanted to kill those whose thoughtless actions had hurt others. I don't want to have to kill someone who's basically innocent but nonetheless you're a threat to my mission. It also wouldn't do for them to find your body yet, when I'm not finished. Then they'd know you weren't the one. No, can't have that." She opened a cupboard in the kitchen and reached to a high shelf coming back with Kayleigh's wallet. "I still have work to do. I have a trail to lay." She grabbed Kayleigh under the arms and pulled her back to the broom closet, duct taping her mouth once again. "Have to go now, have fun," she shut the door and Kayleigh was once again enveloped in darkness.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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It was decided amongst the team that Prentiss alone would read the journal and only read relevant sections to the rest of the team. Emily flipped through the pages of the journal, not reading it out loud. "She mentions someone named Marilyn quite a few times, sounds like they're friends; no last name though." She read a bit farther. "Oh, here's something," she began to read aloud.

"_**Got to ride along with a Detective Tully from CPD. I don't think he appreciated**__**that I was assigned to him, definitely not the mentoring type of individual. It didn't help that I was a little late getting there due to the long winded Professor Jackson. The moment I got there I was rushed out the door to a hit and run on Ivy road. I jog there every day. I keep thinking it could have been me. They had to tranquilize the poor lady's dog."**_

"_**Detective Tully's wife June, now she seems very nice, don't know how she ended up married to him, insisted Detective Tully bring me home for dinner. I don't think he thought much of the idea but he did it anyway. I wasn't really keen on going because I didn't think that much of him but what could I say. I also met June's stepsister Joyce. There's something really sad about her. She told me her son Tyler had been killed in a car accident. I didn't say it to her but I think her little boy dying would have been better than him having to live like Mom did. I wonder if it was a drunk driver like what happened to Mom. I just wondered because neither of us drinks. Mom's accident was enough to stop me from ever drinking. I wonder if it's the same for her." **_

She stopped reading aloud and read a little further, turning the pages until she finally spoke again.

"_**I told Detective Tully what I thought about those deaths and that I thought**__**the letters meant something. He looked at me like I was nuts and couldn't**__**get me out of the station fast enough. He obviously doesn't like it that I'm **__**following these deaths. Why won't anyone listen to me? "**_

Emily paused for some more pages and then began to read aloud once more.

"_**Went to a recruitment seminar that Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid from the FBI put on. They were fantastic. Felt like an idiot when I went up to them and dropped all my stuff. **__**I'm sure they thought I was a clumsy nerd. No wonder they wouldn't take anything I had to say seriously. Dr. Reid is a doll. He looks so much better in person than in the pictures I've seen and he's recently been shot, poor guy. He was still limping a little."**_

Everyone turned to look at Reid. Rossi was smirking slightly while Morgan poked Reid on the shoulder, "My man."

"We really shouldn't be reading this," Reid said, his cheeks turning pink.

Prentiss turned another page of the large neat writing, "Here we go."

"_**Couldn't believe I got a call from the BAU today and they're looking into the deaths. **__**I guess Spencer convinced them. He is just the nicest guy. I found out there have been **__**three more than I thought. Apparently they were all drunk drivers."**_

"_**Blew my mind when Spencer called and asked me out for coffee. He is soooo nice. **__**He was so easy to talk to and I told him all about taking care of my mom which he **__**totally seemed to understand because his mom's sick too. I was glad when he agreed to come back to the apartment for more coffee. The guy obviously likes coffee."**_

"Seems like she's got you figured out," Morgan interjected. "Sorry," he said when the rest of the team glared at him.

"_**Then I made a complete fool of myself when we were talking about the case. It reminded me of what had happened to mom and I just started to cry. I couldn't seem to stop. He must have thought I was an idiot but he let me cry on his shoulder and get it out but I bet that was the weirdest date he'd ever had."**_

"_**I haven't met such a great guy in, well, never. I wish he wasn't up in Quantico, not that it likely matters since I made such a fool of myself. Leslie knocked on the door after he left, said she'd seen us in the parking lot and gave him a two thumbs up. How can I have anything but sweet dreams tonight?"**_

"Ahem…there's nothing more after that." Prentiss said quickly. "We should find her address book and see if we can find someone named Marilyn."

"Got it," JJ said as she headed for the table the telephone was on and grabbed the book from beneath it.

"So obviously she didn't get home last night since there's nothing about the note she received and her visit to see us," Rossi ventured.

"Not to mention possibly murdering Chris Hanes or ranting about being totally pissed off at Reid." Morgan added.

"Yeah, well if I was her, I'd be pissed at me too." Reid said as he turned away.

"Reid, she could be a serial killer," Prentiss reminded him.

"You still don't think so, do you Spence?" JJ asked as she wrote a number down from the book.

"No, no I don't. Does it sound like it from that journal?"

"No, but she's not likely to write that she murdered someone and how do you explain the hair?" Prentiss asked.

"Easy enough to plant something like that especially if you already know we were looking at her," Reid replied.

"So if you still don't think she did it and you didn't think we'd find anything, what was the point of this search?" Morgan asked, waving his hands to indicate the area they had just explored.

"He was looking for something specific and he had to get in here legally," Rossi supplied for Morgan. "Did you get what you came for?" Rossi and Reid stared each other down.

"Yes," the young profiler said.

"Good, then let's go," Rossi started for the door and the others followed. Hotch did not look pleased and Reid knew he would likely tear him a new one before the day was over.

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"That was a total waste of time," Morgan said sarcastically as they entered the conference room.

The team, with the exception of Reid took their seats. "I guess it depends on what Reid found," Rossi replied.

"Where is he anyway?" Prentiss asked.

"I think he stopped at one of the computers," JJ answered running her fingers through her hair. Hotch did not look happy at being manipulated by Reid once again so whatever Reid found had better be good.

The subject of their thoughts came through the door mere moments later with a few pages of computer paper in his hand. Five pairs of eyes looked at him. "Explain," Hotch said curtly, his arms folded in front of him.

"I was looking at my file last night and I saw the note that Kayleigh got. I looked at it more closely and whoever wrote it doesn't seem like Kayleigh." He opened his file on the table and pulled out his copy of the note, taking it to the white board. "Now, granted, it's not a lot to work with and I'd like to have a bigger sample but looking at this note and the woman I talked to the other night, it's not the same person. I had to be sure so I wanted to get a sample of Kayleigh's handwriting. She told me she can't write on a computer. Looking at that blank screen with the cursor blinking completely throws her off, so she writes her papers long hand and transcribes them to the computer." He paused for a breath. "She said she was working on a paper for her Ethics in Law class and so I took pictures on my phone so we could compare and I could analyze the handwriting."

"Why didn't you just tell us that instead of leading us through this dog and pony show," Hotch snapped.

"I didn't think you'd agree."

"You're probably right about that one kid," Morgan said.

"Okay," JJ spoke up, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the room. "Now that you've got both samples what do they tell you?"

Reid looked around the room and, for now, it didn't look like Hotch was going to explode and everyone seemed to be waiting for his analysis. "Like I said, I would have liked a bigger sample than this note but even from this I can tell you certain things. "See the various shapes of the lower case letters." He pointed 'a', 'e' and letters like them out to the team and they nodded. "This individual is very unsettled and unfocused emotionally. The writing is small and narrowly spaced even for a rather large piece of paper, which is indicative of someone who is introverted and keeps the people dear to him or her very close. Its delicate nature shows the writer is unlikely to communicate well other than on a particular wavelength. Notice the overly tall upper case 'l', 't' and 'h'. These represent lofty but unrealistic expectations."

"Like getting rid of all the drunk drivers." Prentiss said.

"Exactly," Reid replied.

"What about Kayleigh?" Rossi asked, his earlier misgivings forgotten as he listened to what Reid had to say.

"She's entirely different than the person that wrote that note. The writing is upright with just a slight slant to the right, a good communicator who keeps her wits about her even in tense situations."

"So she wouldn't be the kind to take off if she was a suspect in a murder investigation?" JJ asked.

Reid shook his head and tapped the paper with his pen. "This writer would stay and fight. The pressure is average but you can see it's heavy in some places. She keeps her emotions in check most of the time but does feel strongly about some things."

"Like drunk driving," Morgan said…"and Reid."

Reid turned back to the board and quickly carried on. "The writing on the note is small but Kayleigh's is large and expansive. She's independent and she also has tall upper strokes but not as tall as the note." He pointed them out. "She's reaching toward goals but her goals are not unachievable."

"Starting over, getting a law degree," JJ suggested and the team nodded.

"Her loops tell me she's energetic and good at problem solving. Her 'Ts' are crossed upward indicating an optimistic person while on the note they're completely the opposite. The garland style of her writing says she's helpful and likes to be involved while the arcade style on the note suggests a methodical, stubborn but protective person."

"One who uses killing drunk drivers as a method of protecting the public," Hotch spoke at last.

"Right," he touched each paper with his pen. "These are two polar opposite people. "Kayleigh's writing is not the writing of someone who does something like this."

"Then why is she running?" Morgan asked.

"That's what worries me. I don't think she is. The unsub knows about her. The unsub knows where she lives. This note," he tapped the page with his pen, "tells us that she was warned about my date which told her we were possibly considering her a suspect and led her to distrust us, namely me, and then her hair just happens to appear at a crime scene."

"So now you think the unsub's trying to frame Kayleigh?" JJ said.

"Yeah, and that's what worries me most," Reid replied.

"Why, if we know it's a frame up but the unsub doesn't know we know, that puts us at an advantage, right?" Prentiss interjected.

"I can see where Reid's coming from and why he's concerned," Hotch replied. "Where'd the unsub get the hair?"


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Kayleigh squirmed inside her dark prison. She could see the sunlight under the door. Joyce had said the police and the BAU suspected her now. What had the woman done to make that happen. She couldn't believe she was in this situation. _I only wanted someone to believe these murders were actually happening and now here I am suspected of them and held prisoner by a psycho. _And she had actually felt sorry for this woman at Detective Tully's. She'd had no idea that Joyce was so mentally unstable. She guessed it's what losing her child, her family for that matter, had done to her. No one would be looking for her, Kayleigh Beresford, would they? At least not as a missing person held prisoner by a very deranged woman, no, they'd be looking for Kayleigh Beresford, serial killer. Joyce had killed again last night at the university. She'd heard the mumblings of the news through the door. Was it someone she knew? Did it matter? It was a tragedy whoever it was.

Her legs ached. She longed to stretch them out but the space was too cramped. She had to do something. She had to try some way to get out of here and get help. Kayleigh managed to wiggle until she was facing the back of the closet. She thanked God she wasn't claustrophobic. It seemed darker somehow, likely because she could no longer see the sun under the door. She tried to stand, banging her head on the shelf above her as she did so. Her curse was muffled by the duct tape. Finally, managing to half squat, half bend, her legs shaking because her muscles had been in one position for so long, she wondered if this was what it had felt like for her mother when she had done range of motion exercises on her immobile limbs. Her bound hands searched in the darkness for the flat latch connected to the door knob, praying she'd be able to turn it. Her fingers touched it and then slipped off. Damn, she said under her breath. If it only stuck out a little more. Her fumbling fingers tried again and found the latch. _Hold on, don't let go, now turn. _Her fingers turned the latch and the door swung open catching Kayleigh off balance. She stumbled, falling backwards, and with no way to stop her fall, landed hard on her hands as her head made a firm thud against the wall.

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"So you think…what," Morgan said as they sat around the table, "that the unsub has Kayleigh?"

"I can't think of anything else," Reid replied as JJ entered the room. "Did Marilyn say anything?" He couldn't hide the hope in his brown eyes.

"She said that she and Kayleigh met up shopping yesterday afternoon and they had coffee," JJ told them.

"Did she tell her anything?" Prentiss asked.

"Uh…yeah," JJ replied.

"JJ," Hotch's voice brooked no argument. He'd had enough of team members not being completely up front with him for one day.

"Oh, it's nothing bad. Kayleigh talked about the BAU coming here because of something she told them but Marilyn stressed that she would not elaborate on what that was, only that a cute guy had believed her when his partner didn't and he'd convinced the others to come. Marilyn said Kayleigh told her she'd been excited when he'd asked her out for coffee until she found out he only wanted to get information on her."

"Is that it?" Rossi asked.

"That's about it," JJ finished.

"I don't think that's quite all of it," Hotch said, his dark eyes telling her she had better be forthcoming.

"Okay, I talked to Kayleigh when she was here about the note. I asked her not to blame Spence, that he was only following orders. I told her that Spence was Henry's godfather and I wouldn't trust someone I didn't think was a good man with my son's future."

Reid choked on the coffee he'd been drinking and drops spewed on the papers in front of him. "You told her that!" He squeaked.

"I guess she repeated our conversation to her friend and Marilyn said she'd tried to convince Kayleigh that perhaps she'd misjudged Reid since she could tell Kayleigh really liked him." She stopped and felt Hotch's glower on her. "Okay, she described him as tall, dark and handsome with brown eyes you could drown in and long fingers that…"

"JJ," Hotch held up his hand while Reid sunk lower in his seat refusing to lift said brown eyes to meet his teammates'. "I think we get the picture. Anything useful?"

JJ shrugged. "Marilyn said they parted in the parking lot and the last time she saw her, Kayleigh was talking to a woman."

"Was she able to describe her?" Rossi asked.

"Not too well, wavy auburn hair, about forty is all I got."

"Did they look like they knew each other?" Reid asked, still not raising his head from his file.

"She said they were smiling at each other; that's all she could say."

"What are you thinking Reid?" Hotch asked, knowing better than to dismiss one of Reid's hunches.

"Kayleigh mentioned meeting that woman Joyce at Detective Tully's. She said Joyce had a son Tyler who was killed in a car accident. There was no Tyler on our list of accident victims," the young profiler said, his eidetic memory kicking in, finally feeling he could look up now that the conversation had turned to safer ground.

"Then he likely wasn't killed by a drunk driver," Morgan concluded.

"But Kayleigh stressed that this Joyce wouldn't drink," Prentiss interjected.

"That really doesn't mean anything. Not everyone who doesn't drink has a history with a drunk driver," Morgan countered.

"But, you have to admit, Kayleigh is pretty perceptive," JJ replied.

Hotch reached over and pushed the button on the phone_. "What can the magical mystic_ _tell you today?" _came through the speaker.

"Garcia, look up deaths in the last two years or so from car accidents in Charlottesville. We're looking for a child named Tyler, I'm not sure of the last name." Hotch said.

"_Your wish is my command my liege. You shall know as soon as I do."_ The phone clicked dead.

After a few moments the phone rang. Morgan reached over and pushed the button. "What have you got for us baby girl?"

"_There was a nine year old Tyler Burgess killed in a car accident on May 13__th__ of 2007. The coroner's report said a shard of flying glass from the windshield pierced his neck and lodged in his_ _carotid artery, oh," _she gasped_, "poor baby."_

"Was there a drunk driver involved Garcia?" Reid asked.

"_It doesn't say so here. The driver's name was June Tully."_

"Isn't that the name of Detective Tully's wife, from Kayleigh's journal?" Emily interjected and the others nodded.

"_Also…I got a hit on Kayleigh Beresford's credit card from Gordonsville,"_ Garcia said.

"Gordonsville," Morgan repeated, "what was she doing up there?"

"_Buying a .22 caliber colt firearm."_

"Could she do that?" Prentiss said. "What about the background check? They wouldn't sell her a firearm with a BOLO out."

"_Aah, my pretty, that's likely why she went to Gordonsville. There's a gun show going on and…"_

"Dealers aren't required to do a background check," Rossi finished for her.

"Do we know for sure it's her?" Reid asked, "Any video? It could be the unsub trying to implicate Kayleigh still further."

"_I got lots of video sweet pea but hundreds of people are there. It's hard to pick out just one."_

"Garcia, who was the first officer on the scene of the Tyler Burgess accident?" Hotch asked.

The team could hear her fingers moving, _"Officer Jeremy Cord,"_ she responded.

"Thanks mama," Morgan said before the phone clicked.

Rossi looked around the table at his teammates. "I think we need to have a talk with Officer Cord."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Jeremy Cord looked no more impressed to be entering the conference room this time than he had when he and Tucci had been assigned to work with the team but he'd been ordered to give the BAU all the help they needed and orders were orders so here he was. Things would change when he was captain. He wouldn't let the feds lead him around by the nose. He'd tell them to shove it up their respective…

"Officer Cord, please come in," Hotch said pulling the officer out of his musings. Cord glanced around, seeing there was no one else in the room but the stern team leader.

He swaggered over towards the table and sighed loudly as he sat down in one of the chairs Hotch had indicated. "Something bothering you Officer Cord?" the unit chief remarked.

"No…" Cord said disinterestedly as his eyes fell on a new face on the white board, "sir," he added as an afterthought.

"Good," Hotch said. "I wanted to discuss this accident report with you." Hotch laid the file of June Tully's accident on the table in front of Cord and watched the man's eyes as he looked at the file.

"What about it?" he said, refusing to look at Hotch.

"You were first on the scene. What did you do?"

"It's all there in the report," the officer replied.

"Yes, I see what's in the report. Mrs. Tully was barely injured. Did you administer a breathalyzer?" Hotch asked.

"Officer," Hotch spoke again when he got no answer.

"I…uh…I guess I forgot." Jeremy Cord replied.

"You forgot. I have a hard time believing you forgot. It was a single vehicle accident. It's SOP if the driver's well enough so that time doesn't elapse that might distort the findings."

"Well, I mean there was a lot going on. There was a kid, he was…"

"Dead officer, the child was dead. By the time you got to him you couldn't have helped him so why didn't you administer the breathalyzer?" Hotch snapped.

"I did," Cord snapped back slamming his fist on the table. "I did."

"And…" Hotch waited. "It's not in your report."

"It was Tully's wife, okay. It was one of our own. You always look after your own."

"So," Hotch's steely gaze bore into the man's eyes. "You're telling me that you withheld evidence to protect a member of the force."

Cord was quiet for a few moments. "You gotta understand, this isn't just a job like working at the gas station or the grocery store, ya know. Every time you put on your uniform, pin on your shield and strap on your weapon, you know it could be the last time. The people here aren't just your co-workers; they're brothers and sisters who stand together. You have to know when you go out there that the guy next to you is going to have your back. That's the promise. That's the creed. That's why the blue wall never falls; because you know the guy next to you has your back. I just looked at it as having Tully's back."

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She saw stars. It wasn't possible to see stars in the sunlight she logically told herself, yet there they were, spinning around her head. She tried, with much effort, to sit up. Her head hurt, so did her hands. She wondered if perhaps she'd broken a finger. She closed her eyes for a few moments and then opened them again. The stars had thankfully disappeared, leaving in their wake, just a blur. Things seemed to float before her eyes like they were in a huge aquarium of some sort. She waited out the fog and in a few minutes it lifted and she was able to assess the situation. The wall she leaned against was near a kitchen counter that had stools in front of it. She had to find a way to get this duct tape off and escape and, she supposed, the kitchen was her best bet. She bent her knees as best she could so her feet were under her and with a loud groan at the pain the effort caused, she stood. The room was spinning again. She rested her back against the wall, sure that if she was patient it would pass. The question was, did she have the time for patience? She opened her eyes and tried to shimmy her bound feet along the wall and the counter with the stools, knocking some over in the process. If she just continued to inch her way along she'd find a drawer with a knife. Each inch seemed like a mile and reaching the drawers was almost like chasing the sun, a game she'd played in car trips as a child. No matter how far you went, you never caught up to it.

At last Kayleigh reached some drawers. She turned her back to them and found the handle. Inching forward as much as her bound feet would allow, she pulled the drawer open behind her. She turned around to see what the drawer contained, offering a prayer that it was something she could use to release her bonds. The drawer was filled with an assortment of kitchen utensils from spatulas to spiders but what caught her eye and most excited her was a pair of kitchen shears.

She felt around in the drawer for the shears until they were finally in her grasp. She couldn't manage to use them by putting her fingers in the openings so she opened them wide and began sawing.

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"Did you find out anything?" Rossi asked as he and the rest of the team entered the room to find Hotch contemplating the white board.

"Yes," Hotch replied without taking his gaze away from the photos.

"And," Morgan said, "what'd he say?"

"At first he said he hadn't done a breathalyzer, said he'd forgotten but with further probing he admitted he had. It was covered up for Detective Tully."

Everyone was silent for a few moments until Morgan spoke again. "Garcia's been doing some digging. Tyler Burgess, nine years old, his father was Dan and his mother, Joyce. He had an older sister Carla."

"That's likely the Joyce Kayleigh mentioned in her journal," JJ said.

"Dan Burgess was a professor at the university and Joyce was, get this," Morgan continued, "a pharmacist."

"That would explain the medical knowledge especially the drug interactions," Rossi remarked.

"She worked at the same pharmacy where Gail Nevin got her medications and Joe Potborski got his epipens," Morgan added.

"That's how she got all the medical information on them, as well as where they lived" Reid stated.

"And before becoming a pharmacist, she was in training to be a nurse. She would know how to insert one of those nasogastric tubes," Morgan carried on. "After the accident, Joyce went into a severe depression, according to her medical records, quit her job, husband divorced her and took the daughter with him to a new job in Richmond. Due to Joyce's depression, he was granted sole custody by the court."

"Pick your stressor," Prentiss said.

"Detective Tully must be the reason she knew so much about the case. He tells his wife; his wife tells her. That's how she was getting inside information and knew that when I took Kayleigh out for coffee, it was to profile her," Reid added. "She still lives in their home on Alderman Road, right near the university and in the center of the comfort zone."

"So Joyce Burgess wants revenge for her son's death and the loss of her family but if she goes after the person truly responsible, she loses the only family she has left, the Tullys, so, instead, she transfers the guilt on to other drunk drivers," Hotch summed up for them, still staring at the board.

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Kayleigh felt the last of the tape break and her hands were, at last, free. One of the fingers on her left hand was bent a little and swollen. She couldn't worry about that now she thought as she ripped the tape from across her mouth, causing her to curse loudly. Then she took the shears to the tape on her ankles. Once free, she took off down the hallway as fast as she could. She needed to find a bathroom.

What did she do now she thought as she finished in the bathroom? Did she call 911? The police were looking for her and would likely just haul her off to jail. She couldn't count on Spencer. He thought she was guilty. Joyce had taken the keys to her car and her apartment but there was likely an APB out on it anyway. They likely had her apartment building staked out. Joyce also had her wallet with all her money and credit cards. Could she just walk out of here? Her face had likely been splashed on every resident's television and in their newspapers.

As she was deciding what to do she glanced at the bedroom across from the bathroom. It must be Joyce's room. She wondered if Joyce might have something to make her look less like herself so she could get away until she decided what to do. The room she entered was in a shambles. The duvet, a taupe color with green leaves on it was partially on the floor as were the pillow shams. The bed was unmade and clothes were strewn throughout the room. The curtains that matched the duvet remained closed. Kayleigh looked around the room. A picture sat on one of the nightstands, the glass shattered. She picked it up. It was the same man from the picture in the living room and Joyce. He was behind her with his arms around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder. They were laughing at whoever took the picture.

She put the picture back, and began looking in the closet. She found a baggy sweatshirt, a khaki jacket and a black tam that might cover her eyes a bit and distort her face. She quickly shed her top items, threw on the sweatshirt, jacket and tam, looked at herself in the mirror, deciding it would have to do, before turning and leaving the room. The room across from it was completely empty she noted; no furniture and nothing adorned the walls. No curtains draped the window, only a Venetian blind. This must have been Carla's room. She'd taken everything with her to her new life with her father. She walked down the hall toward the living room and passed the third bedroom, the smallest, but pristine, and, it was as if time had stood still. The rich oak four poster single bed was the center of the room. It was covered with a duvet featuring a red background that held a mass of soccer balls. Across from the bed, the wall held three posters, Harry Potter was flanked by two baseball players in mid swing, surely hitting one out of the park. In one corner stood a baseball bat, a glove and a soccer ball. A child's baseball cap hung on one of the posts of the headboard and a picture was on the nightstand. It was of two little boys, Tyler and a friend who had their arms around each other's shoulders. They were both wearing caps like the one that hung on the bedpost, proclaiming that he and his friend were Pythons.

Kayleigh saw something touch the picture. It was wet. She recognized at last that it was a tear. She hadn't even realized she was crying. What had happened to this idyllic family? Two parents with good jobs, a nice home, who seemed to love each other; two children who were healthy and, at least in Tyler's case, appeared to be happy. The good life they'd built had toppled like a house of cards because someone had been thoughtless enough to drive after drinking. She could understand Joyce's rage. She'd felt it herself after her mother's accident, after watching her mother try, struggle and suffer only to at last deteriorate and give in to what the accident had taken from her. She'd been offered antidepressants too but she didn't want to rely on medication if it could be avoided. She had gotten counseling from the rehab center her mother had been in. She'd ranted to friends and sought solace from her pastor. And eventually she'd moved on. Joyce just couldn't move on. She put the picture down, drew the back of her hand across her face and was leaving the room when she heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Joyce opened the front door and stepped into the living room. She could see into the kitchen from this vantage point and noted that a couple of stools had been knocked over. She approached the area and saw one of the kitchen drawers was open while pieces of duct tape and some kitchen shears littered the floor. The deadbolts had been locked. She went to the back door seeing that those deadbolts were locked as well. Joyce crept quietly down the hallway, glancing in the bathroom, her bedroom and Carla's room. Nothing seemed amiss and there was no sign of her 'guest'. She carried on down the hall to Tyler's room. Something wasn't right. The picture of Tyler and Garth, it wasn't at the same angle as it had been when she'd dusted. She always made sure it was the same every time. That nosy little bitch had been here. No one came in here but her. It was her place to be with Tyler and touch his things. She had to make it right she thought as she proceeded into the room. A few feet in she had the feeling something else was amiss though she couldn't put her finger on it when a baseball bat hit her hard across the back sending her sprawling to the floor.

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"What do we do about Detective Tully and the others?" JJ asked as the team prepared for the raid on Joyce Burgess' home.

"Tully's too close to this situation whether he realizes it or not. I don't know if I trust him not to tell his wife. He hasn't kept his mouth shut so far and she could warn her step-sister," Hotch replied.

"You don't think he actually knew or suspected something, do you?" Rossi asked.

Hotch paused for a moment. "That's the thing, Cord overlooked it. I'm not sure about Tully. I don't know who we can count on but I don't want to ride roughshod over the local LEOs either."

"Hotch," Morgan said, "a young woman's life may be at stake."

"If I might make a suggestion," Rossi interjected.

"What is it Dave?"

"I think we can trust Officer Tucci," Rossi replied. "He'll know who we can count on."

"Okay," Hotch nodded his head at the suggestion. "Dave you get in touch with Tucci. Let's go." The team headed toward their SUVs.

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The blow had hurt like hell and knocked the wind out of Joyce for a few moments but she was quickly up and running down the hall after Kayleigh who she spotted at the front door opening the deadbolts. "Stop right there you little bitch," she screamed at Kayleigh as she ran towards her and grabbed the back of her jacket attempting to pull her back into the room. Kayleigh spun around raising the bat that was still in her hand only to see Joyce reaching into her pocket and pointing the newly purchased .22 at her. "My gun trumps your bat."

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"Are you sure about this?" Tucci asked Rossi from his cell as he and Officers Crandall and Hurley barreled down the streets, sirens blaring, to meet up with the team outside of 1452 Alderman Road, "Tully's sister-in-law?"

"We're fairly certain and we believe she's armed and has got Kayleigh Beresford as a hostage." Rossi replied. "She fits the profile and Kayleigh had gotten in her way. Mission based killers will remove all obstacles to their mission."

The SUVs and two cruisers pulled up in front of the home on the quiet tree lined street almost simultaneously. Drapes were pulled aside by neighbors eager to see what was going on. FBI agents and CPD officers all in Kevlar vests were rushing the Burgess home. "Hurley, Rossi and JJ, take the back, " Hotch ordered. "Crandall and Prentiss the garage entrance; the rest of us will take the front. Remember this woman is mentally unstable and possibly armed with a hostage."

Hotch knocked on the door with Morgan flanking him on one side and Reid and Tucci on the other. "Joyce Burgess, federal agents, open up."

"Hotch, the car in the garage is Kayleigh's," Prentiss said into her wrist mic. "The car in the driveway is still warm so she must have recently gotten home."

"Joyce Burgess," Hotch repeated a little louder, "federal agents, open up." Still no response came from inside the house. Hotch spoke into his wrist mic, "On three, one…two…three."

On three the sound of both splintering wood and smashing glass was heard as Hotch, Morgan, Reid and Tucci entered the living room, guns drawn. Prentiss and Crandall came in from the garage door, weapons also drawn while Rossi, JJ and Hurley had had to smash the glass to get the deadbolts open came in last. They saw a neat living room with a fireplace, a mantel which contained a large selection of mortars and pestles.

JJ motioned her head towards the objects. "I guess Dr. Kinley was pretty close about the blunt object."

Officers Crandall and Hurley monitored the exits while the rest cleared the house. One by one the agents and Tucci went through the rooms and, "Clear," could be heard after each one.

"You notice the bedrooms?" Rossi asked.

"Everything past orderly, everything present disorderly," Hotch tilted his head toward the winding carpeted stairway that led to the basement. They filed down the stairs and found at the foot of the stairway a large room that had been broken up into different areas. A black sofa sat against the wall to the right of the staircase while a matching loveseat was kitty corner on the left. An entertainment center, complete with a large screen television, DVD player and an extensive collection of video games was right across from the stairs. Hotch, Reid and Morgan went right while Rossi, Prentiss, JJ and Tucci went left. Further on past the couch, right of the stairway was a treadmill and a stationary exercise bike that could both be used while watching the TV. Beyond the exercise equipment toward the back or the room was a ping pong table with a ball and four paddles sitting on it. A variety of board games were stacked on the shelves that lined the back wall. At one time, Hotch thought sadly, this had been a happy place where this family had done fun things together. Along the left wall were doors that opened into different rooms.

Hotch opened the first door with Reid and Morgan at his side. He entered, his weapon steady in his outstretched arms, to find an office with a desk, computer, shelving with an impressive collection of books from the classics to science fiction to Harry Potter. A large overstuffed camel leather sofa that looked like if you sat in it you would completely lose yourself was against the wall below the basement window. That's what this family had done; Reid thought, sunk down in that soft leather and lost themselves in other worlds, the same place his mother had taught him to find his first adventures. He opened the closet and turned to Hotch and Morgan, "Clear."

Rossi and JJ found the same thing in the bathroom and storage room at the other end of the large basement. Prentiss and Tucci cleared what appeared to be the guest room. That left only one room. Unlike the others, it had large sliding doors. On Hotch's cue, Tucci pulled one side, JJ the other. The team, their arms steady in front of them looked into what was the laundry room which also contained the furnace and the water heater. In the middle of it all stood Joyce, her left arm around Kayleigh's throat while her right held the gun to the young woman's head. "Come any closer and I shoot her," Joyce said.

"Mrs. Burgess, Joyce," Hotch began. "We don't want anyone to get hurt here. You can see you're outnumbered, please put down the gun and come with us. We'll get you the help you need."

"Help, you think I need help. I don't need help. I need my baby back. I need my Tyler." Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke of her son.

"I know what you're feeling," Hotch said, taking a step closer.

"Uh uh, no closer," Joyce said as the tip of the gun met Kayleigh's head.

She's a strong person, Reid thought, looking at Kayleigh. He could see it in her green eyes as their eyes met; she must be scared to death, yet she hadn't flinched.

Hotch took a step backward. "I know what it's like," Hotch reiterated, "to lose someone you love to the actions of another. My wife was killed and I killed her killer. I should somehow feel better inside, right, I'd gotten my revenge, but it didn't make the pain any less. So killing all these people is not making the pain any less is it?"

Joyce shook her head but still kept her gun in full contact with Kayleigh. "I want to die," Joyce said at last. "I want to die and be with my baby. I wanted to kill myself but I couldn't. I was too weak." She paused and the team could see her swallow a lump in her throat. "But now I'm ready. You have to kill me or I kill her." She pushed the gun more forcefully against Kayleigh's head causing the reflex action to move away from the pressure.

"Joyce, no one wants to kill you," Hotch said, wondering if they even had a shot at her with Kayleigh in the way.

"You'd better decide fast," she replied as Kayleigh felt and heard the cocking of the gun against her head.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Kayleigh felt the cold hard tip of the metal as it touched her temple. She began to quiver as her eyes looked at the six people in front of her, guns drawn. If they tried to hit Joyce, what were the odds that they wouldn't hit her too? Her eyes went over the team until they came to him. Brown and green eyes locked. He'd believed her. From the beginning he'd believed her. She knew it was him. A tear tricked down her cheek. If this was the end, if she was going to die at either Joyce's hand or theirs she'd be glad knowing his would be the last face she'd see.

"I was supposed to pick him up at soccer but I was busy so I called June and begged her to pick him up and take care of him until I was free. I didn't know that June had been at a friend's bridal shower and the punch…I didn't know," she squealed as tears leaked from her eyes. "Dan and Carla blamed me. I was supposed to pick him up and I got June instead. I swear I didn't know that she was…I never would have…"

"I know," Kayleigh suddenly spoke softly beside her. "I know…I missed the bus at school. I was fooling around, talking to a boy I liked. He was one of the popular ones and it seemed like the most important thing in the world at that moment. Funny how priorities can change in an instant." She sniffed, unable to bring her hands up to wipe away her tears as they fell down her chin and onto Joyce's arm that was still around her throat. "I called Mom and told her I'd lost track of time in the library. She'd been on her feet all day working and all she said was, 'I'll call ahead for takeout and on the way home you can tell me all about him'." She sobbed and looked at Spencer, only to see him nod ever so slightly. "She was in the accident on the way to pick me up. They thought she would die at first but she didn't, she lived and I was so happy. I did the rest of my schooling at home so I could look after her. It was a 24/7 job. I was told she should go into a long term care facility but I couldn't. It was my fault she was in the car. It was my duty. It was my punishment. It was my penance for thinking talking to that boy was more important than my mother. You know what the funny thing is?" She paused for a moment as if expecting an answer. "I can't even remember his name."

"I was happy she was alive, but as time went on and her beautiful soul was stuck in that broken body, I sometimes wished… You wouldn't have wanted that for Tyler." She paused for a moment and she could see Spencer nod again. _Okay, keep going. _She licked her lips but there was no moistness there, her mouth was so dry but she could taste the saltiness of her tears. "Then when she finally passed from complications of her condition, when her body finally gave in, I was relieved. I loved her more than anyone and now there was no more pain for her. She was free at last, free to dance." She gave a small smile and her voice went to almost a whisper, "She loved to dance." She felt the pressure from the gun diminish a little more.

"I know your pain Joyce. The man who did this to my mother never paid for her death because she lived too long after the accident." She laughed quietly with disdain. "She was too stubborn and pigheaded to die so he could be punished. But, as Agent Hotchner said, that doesn't stop the pain anyway. It's always there. Over time it diminishes to a dull ache or hides in a corner of your heart only to rear its ugly head when you least expect it but it does get better Joyce, it does."

Kayleigh felt the metal move away from her head completely as Joyce moved the gun to her side and released her hold on Kayleigh's throat. Suddenly everything seemed to go so fast and in slow motion at the same time. She was driven or wrenched away from Joyce like a climber repels from a mountainside, while the woman once again raised her weapon, this time at the agents. The agents' shouts of "NO," were drowned out by her own screams and the gunshots which filled the room. She felt herself falling, or more literally being thrown, to the floor where Spencer's body covered hers.

When finally he raised himself, the smoke from the guns and her own tears clouded her vision of Joyce lying on the floor, blood seeping rapidly from her body, creating a bright red pool against the gleaming white tile floor. For a moment she insanely wondered who would clean it up.

She heard something; it sounded far away. "Kayleigh, Kayleigh…Leigh," Spencer said loudly as she turned to look at him.

"Spencer…I…"

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Those beautiful brown eyes looked into hers.

"N…no, I…I'm fine," she heard herself respond. She turned to look at the body lying there as Hotch took out his cell phone. "I tried; I tried; from the very beginning I tried and…and just…" She couldn't seem to make her mouth work for some reason. She pointed to Joyce Burgess' body, "I really tried."

"I know," Reid said as memories of Jack Vaughn and Chula Vista flooded back into his mind.

"I…I did…I tried," Kayleigh repeated.

Reid shook her. "Leigh, look at me." The girl's green eyes looked into his, "I know," he said again firmly.

She looked into his deep, soulful eyes, he knew. His eyes didn't lie, she knew that now. Even on their pretend date, his eyes hadn't lied.

"Let's get you out of here and get you checked out at the hospital," Reid said as he helped her to her feet but held her tightly. She shook and he was afraid she'd crumble to the floor if he let go. At least that's what he told himself.

"No, I don't…" she protested as he led her up the stairs. She heard sirens as she walked through the living room to the front door.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," Reid stated firmly.

"Will you come with me?"

"Maybe you'd rather have JJ or Emily," Reid suggested.

"No," she shook her head.

Reid turned to look at Hotch who nodded for him to go with her. They turned back to the open front door and came face to face with Jacob Tully. No words were exchanged. It was one of those moments where none were needed. Both brown and green eyes blazed at the man who, after a moment, stood aside to allow them to exit.

"Let's get back to the precinct," Hotch said as the crime scene team had arrived.

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The dim lights of the hotel bar all but hid the dark haired man in the far corner with a single malt scotch on the rocks in front of him untouched, the ice melting as the minutes ticked by. He was almost hidden but she spotted him and headed for the table. "What's up?" she said sitting down across from him.

"Nothing."

"Uh huh, Hotch, you have that look of a man with a heavy weight on his shoulders," Emily Prentiss said as the waitress came to the table, "white wine, please."

"I feel like a hypocrite," Hotch said finally after Emily's white wine sat in front of her.

"You want to condemn Cord and the CPD…" Emily began.

"But I did the same thing with Reid," Hotch continued for her. "All the signs were there. He came in late; he was rude, jittery, and erratic in his behavior. I should have reported it. But I let it go because it was, well, Reid and, like Cord pointed out, he's part of that family you build up in law enforcement. I was in charge. I had sent him into that situation. I had to have his back."

"Who could blame Reid after what happened to him?" Emily responded. "He went through something terrible in those few days in Georgia. What we saw was bad enough. What didn't we see?" She took a sip of her wine while Hotch still left his drink untouched. "He needed some time, maybe a wake up call. I think he got that in New Orleans. But," she stressed, "all that time I saw how you watched him carefully, how you kept him close to the precinct, not letting him go on raids, use his weapon or in any way compromise a case or someone's life. Eventually he pulled himself out of it because that's Reid. He's a survivor."

"It doesn't make me feel any better that I didn't do something about Cord and Tully's wife, but that would have been the pot calling the kettle black wouldn't it? And if I'd gone on a rampage about this and someone found out about Reid and my reluctance to act…" Hotch left the thought unfinished.

"Look, there's really no hard evidence with Reid, not like here where Cord actually admitted to omitting the breathalyzer result. Nobody ever saw Reid…He never said anything… He never failed a test…"

"No, it's just the giant elephant in the room that we all ignore because if any of us acknowledges it then I have no choice but to act."

Hotch and Prentiss looked each other in the eye, renewing the silent bond. "If it makes you feel any better I think maybe somebody did report Cord, because when we left, Cord was in the captain's office and it was pretty loud. My money's on Rossi."

"I wouldn't put it past Dave."

"How's Kayleigh doing?" she asked, changing the subject to what she hoped was safer ground.

"Reid said she's okay physically except for some tazer burns, a broken finger and a bump on the head; still she's pretty shaken up."

"I can totally understand that. Is Reid still with her?" she raised her eyebrows.

A glimmer of a grin crossed Hotch's face, "Oh yes."


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: This is the last chapter folks. Thank you so much for supporting the story, adding it to your alerts and favorites but most of all for your reviews and PM's. They mean a lot. You're the greatest. And, as always, a special thanks to mablereid for the help and encouragement.

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The sun was starting to set through the picture window in Kayleigh's living room, the purples, oranges and yellows melded together in a fantastic medley of color. She sat on her sofa, silent, just staring at the sight she'd despaired she might never see again.

"Are you okay?" The voice beside her said softly. "Can I get you something? I'm not much of a cook but…"

He stopped speaking as she reached over and took his hand. "No thanks, I'm okay. I just want to sit here and… recover."

"I know," Reid said. "The kidnapping's bad enough but then you have to deal with the aftermath, the hospital, the tests and the cognitive interview from law enforcement when all you want to do is scream 'leave me alone'."

Kayleigh nodded. "Thanks for getting me away from the press like you did. I couldn't have gone through that. I don't know how you managed to lose them."

"They teach us all kinds of driving skills in FBI training at the TEVOC, that's the tactical and emergency vehicle operations centre; slalom, offensive, evasive…you know that kind of thing. Don't tell Morgan. He always wants to be the one in control of the vehicle. I think he forgets sometimes that I had to pass the same tests as he did to become a field agent."

She gave him a slight grin. "Your secret's safe with me." She paused. "You said…you know… in the basement and the way you talked just now…"

"I had an incident a few years back where an unsub got a jump on me and had me captive for a couple of days. He was extremely psychotic so it was a tough time."

"I'm sorry," Kayleigh looked into his soulful eyes. "There's more isn't there?"

"That's for another day," Reid replied.

Kayleigh nodded. "So, how did you figure out it was Joyce?"

_Here it was, the moment of truth._

"We got a search warrant for your place."

"A search warrant," she repeated as her hand let go of his. "So you really did think I was the killer?"

"No, no I didn't. That's why I wanted the search warrant."

"It was you who asked for it?" She moved over putting some space between them.

"The search warrant was supposed to be for looking for some of the killer's murder weapons but that's not why I wanted in here, it was just my legal way to get in," Reid babbled before coming up for air.

"And you were looking for…?"

"Your handwriting, I analyze handwriting and if we could compare it to the note, I could prove to my team that you and the killer were two completely different people." He paused for a moment. "I took pictures of your paper for your Ethics in Law class. It's a very good paper actually. You should get an A."

"So then you didn't actually search my place," Kayleigh heaved a sigh of relief, looking around the room. Nothing appeared to be out of place.

Reid didn't speak for a moment. "Yeah, we did, well the others did. I just stayed in your computer room and took pictures of your paper with my phone. JJ and Emily went through your bedroom so none of us guys saw your personal stuff."

"My personal stuff…my personal stuff…" she shouted as she stood and backed away from him to the china cabinet where she picked up an intricately carved redware pot with feather designs all around it and held it up for him to see. "This is all my personal stuff."

What could he say to that? They had invaded her privacy in a big way in the one place she had the right to feel safe from the world. _And it had been his idea…to prove he was right._

"I still don't see how analyzing my handwriting led you to Joyce," she said angrily, her arms crossed in front of her.

_Okay, get ready to have your butt kicked out of here in ten seconds._

"You mentioned her in your journal." He winced as he spoke, preparing himself to be slapped across the face.

Kayleigh gasped as both her eyes and her mouth opened to their limits. "You read my journal?"

"Not me," he put up his hands. "Hotch thought we should read it. Emily was the only one who read everything and she only read the parts out loud that had to do with the murders or the FBI." He went on to tell her about the team's looking into Tyler's death and discovering the cover up at CPD that led them to Joyce. "So you see if we hadn't read it we wouldn't have known about Joyce and we might not have found you." He hoped that would smooth things over a bit.

"Did she read the things I said about you?"

"Um hmm," he nodded.

Kayleigh's face flushed and she turned, running her fingers over the feather motif on the pot, refusing to face him. "I bet you all found it really funny," she said finally and Reid could hear the tears in her voice.

"No, nobody thought it was funny. I was kind of embarrassed because women don't usually give me a second glance."

"Yeah, right, don't they have women working at Quantico?" she asked still not facing him.

"Yeah, of course they do," Reid replied.

"Do you guys have to have physicals?"

"Of course," Reid was not getting the point to this at all.

"There must be something really wrong with your eye charts then." She gave a slight laugh before bursting into tears.

Reid wasn't exactly sure what to do. He wasn't used to crying women but his instincts took over and he stepped forward, turned her gently to face him and put his arms around her while she cried on his shoulder for what she'd been through, for the people who'd been killed, for her mother, for Tyler Burgess and last of all, for Joyce.

Finally the tears subsided "I suppose I should thank you then; if you hadn't gotten the search warrant who knows where I might be now," she said as she stepped back from him, wiping her face with her hands. "I guess that's the end of that."

"I certainly hope not," Reid replied.

Kayleigh's beautiful green eyes, that were now red from crying, looked into his, "What are you talking about?"

"I hope that's not the last time you cry on my shoulder, not that I want you to cry a lot or anything, just that…" he looked at the floor. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I was… around a bit. I mean it's only a couple of hours drive from DC and I'm certainly willing to make the trip if you're willing to…"

"Is it because of what I wrote, because you don't have to take pity…?"

"Pity, are you kidding me? I've had to fight my team this whole case because they thought I was here because of my attraction to you rather than because of the validity of the case."

"Really," her eyes widened.

Reid nodded.

"Well then," she replied in a mock Victorian manner. "I have no problem with keeping company with you Dr. Reid." She stepped closer to him and put her head on his shoulder and her arms around his neck while his arms encircled her again. "No problem at all."

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Reid closed the cover on his report and headed for Hotch's office. Hotch had gone home for the day, as he was wont to do more often since Haley's death, so Reid opened the door and placed the file in the unit chief's in box. Heading back to the bullpen he passed Rossi's open office door.

"You're late leaving," the older agent said.

"I wanted to finish my report," Reid told him.

Rossi got up from his desk and came to the doorway and leaned against the door jamb, crossing one leg in front of the other. "I owe you an apology. You were right to look into the case when I'd outright rejected it. You followed your gut and stuck to your guns, even when we all believed it might be Kayleigh, and I applaud you for that."

"Thank you, thanks for saying that. I'm sorry if I was…difficult and for bringing up Zoe. I know how badly you felt after her death. I thought if I looked into this and it was nothing, no harm, no foul. At least it wouldn't be on my conscience."

Rossi nodded, "How's Kayleigh doing?" He asked.

"She was pretty shaken up by the whole thing but she's strong, she'll be okay."

"You're right about that. She was wonderful in a tough situation trying to talk Joyce down. She did as well as any negotiator I've ever trained. Whatever area of the law she chooses will be lucky to have her, just between you and me; I hope she chooses the bureau." A slight smirk came to Rossi's face. "And are you going to personally be around to make sure that she's okay?"

Reid's face flushed slightly and he looked down before facing Rossi again. "I'm going to try as much as I can. I hope I don't blow it, you know I'm not very knowledgeable about women."

"Well," Rossi said, turning back into his office to grab his jacket and turn out the light, "you're in luck because I happen to have a lot of knowledge in that area. Let's say I buy you a drink and we talk about it."

"Rossi, you've been divorced three times!"

"I said I had knowledge. I didn't say I was good at it."


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